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D2.82. 


UC-NRLF 


$B    27    372 


i  he  FLYING 
CLOUD 


And  150  Other  Old  Time 
Poems  and  Ballads 


Jl  Collection  of  UL  irish  Sorgs,  Songs  of 

the  Sea  andQi  eat  Lafcs,  The  fl}ig  Pine  Woods, 

The  Prize  Ring  and  Others. 


Com;  ikd  &y 
M.  C.  b£AN 

Virginia,  Minnesota 


FLYING  CLOUD 

And  One  Hundred  and  Fifty  other  Old  Time  Songs 
and  Ballads  of  Outdoor  Men,  Sailors,  Lumber 
Jacks,  Soldiers,  Men  of  the  Great  Lakes, 
Railroadmen,  Miners,  etc. 


Compiled  by 

M.  C  DEAN 


THE  QUICKPRINT 
VIRGINIA.  MINNESOTA 


My  name  u 


FLYING  CLOUD. 


name  is  "Willie  Hollander,  as  you  may  understand, 
I  was  born  in  tlie  County  Waterford  in  Erin's  happy  land; 
When  I  was  young  and  in  my  prime,  then  beauty  on  me  smiled, 
My  parents  doted  on  me,  I  being  their  only  child. 

My  father  bound  me  to  a  trade  in  Waterford's  fair  town, 
He  bound  me  to  a  cooper  there  by  the  name  of  Willie  Brown; 
I  served  my  master  faithfully  for  eighteen  months  or  more, 
Then  I.  shipped  on  board  of  the  ''Ocean  Queen,   bound   for 
Bellefresiers  shore. 

And  when  we  reached  Bellefreisers  shore  I  met  with  Captain 

Moore, 
The  captain  of  the  Flying  Cloud,  that  sails  from  Baltimore ; 
He  asked  me  if  I  would  sail  with  him  on  a  slaving  voyage  to  go, 
To  the  burning  shores  of  Africa  where  the  coffee  seeds  do  grow. 

The  Flying  Cloud  was  a  clipper  ship  of  five  hundred  tons  or 

more, 
>She  could  easy  sail  'round  anything'  going  out  of  Baltimore. 
Her  sails  were  as  white  as  the  driven  snow  and  on  them  there's 

no  speck. 
And  forty-nine  brass  pounder  guns  she  carried  on  her  deck. 

The  Flying  Cloud  was  as  fine  a  ship  as  ever  sailed  the  seas, 

Or  ever  spread  a  main  topsail  before  a  freshening  breeze; 

I  have  oft  times  seen  that  gallant  bark  with  the  wind  abaft 

her  beam, 
With   her  main   top   Royal  and  stun  sails  set  taking  sixteen 

from  the  reel. 

The  first  place  that  we  landed  'twas  on  the  African  shore, 
And  five  hundred  of  those  poor  slaves  from  their  native  land 

we  bore; 
■  I arched  them  out  upon  our  plank  and  stowed  them  down 

below. 
It  was  eighteen  inches  to  the  man  was  all  that  there  was  to  go. 

Early  next  morning  we  set  sail  with  our  cargo  of  slaves, 

It  would  have  been  better  for  those  poor  souls  if  they'd  been 
in  their  graves; 

For  the  plague  and  fever  came  on  board,  swept  half  their  num- 
ber away, 

And  we  dragged  their  bodies  on  the  deck  and  threw  them  in 
the  sea. 

In  the  course  of  three  weeks  after  we  arrived  on  Cuba's  shore, 
We  sold  them  to  the  planters  there,  to  be  slaves  for  evermore; 

1 


604152 


Tlie  rice  anil  coffee  seeds  to  sow  beneath  the  burning  sun, 
To  lead  a  hard  and  wretched  life  until  their  career  was  run. 

And  now  our  money  is  all  spent  and  we  are  off  to  sea  again, 
"When  Captain  Moore  he  came  on  board  and  said  to  us  his  men : 
''There  is  gold  and  silver  to  be  had  if  with  me  you'll  remain, 
We'll  hoist  aloft  a  pirate  flag  and  scour  the  Spanish  Main." 

We  all  agreed  but  five  young  lads  who  told  us  them  to  land, 
Two  of  those  were  Boston  boys,  two  more  from  Newfoundland; 
And  the  other  was  an  Irish  lad  belonging  to  Trimore, 
I  wish  to  God  I  had  joined  those  boys  and  went  with  them 
on  shore. 

We  sank  and  plundered  many  a  ship  down  on  the  Spanish  Main, 
Left  many  a  widow  and  orphan  child  in  sorrow  to  remain; 
We  made  them  walk  out  on  our  plank,  gave  to  them  a  watery 

.grave,  * 

For  a  saying  of  our  captain  was  that  a  dead  man  tells  no  tales. 

Pursued  we  were  by  many  ships,  both  frigates  and  liners,  too, 
But   for  to   catch   the  Flying   Cloud  was  a   thing  they  ne'er 

could  do; 
It  was  all  in  vain  astern  of  us  their  cannons  roared  so  loud, 
It  wras  all  in  vain  to  ever  try  for  to  catch  the  Flying  Cloud. 

Till  a  Spanish  ship,  a  man-of-war,  the  Dungeon,  hove  in  view, 
And  fired  a  shot  across  our  boys  as  a  signal  to  heave  to ; 
We  gave  to  her  no  answer,  but  sailed  before  the  wind, 
Until  a  chain  shot  broke  our  mizzen   mast  and  then  we  fell 
behind. 

We  cleared  our  deck  for  action  as_she  came  up  'longside, 
And  soon  from  off  our  quarter  decks  there  ran  a  crimson  tide ; 
We  fought  till  Captain  Moore  was  killed,  and  eighty  of  his  men, 
When  a  bomb  shell  set  our  ship  on  fire,  we  were  forced  to  sur- 
render then. 

Now  fare  you  well,  you  shady  groves  and  the  girl  that  I  do  adore, 
Your  voice  like  music  soft  and  sweet  will  never  cheer  me  more ; 
No  more  will  I  kiss  those  ruby  lips  or  clasp  that  silk-soft  hand. 
For  here  I  must  die  a  shameful  death  out  in  some  foreign  land. 

It  wras  next  to  New  Gate  I  was  brought,  bound  down  in  iron 

chains, 
For  the  plundering  of  ships  at  sea  down  on  the  Spanish  Main  • 
It  was  drinking  and  bad  company  that  made  a  wretch  of  me, 
So  youths  beware  of  my  sad  fate  and  my  curse  on  Piracy. 


LULUAXXA. 

I  know  a  little  cot  as  humble  as  can  be, 

It  stands  on  the  banks  of  the  Susquehanna, 

Where  the  wild  flowers  bloom  and  the  humming'  birds  play, 

Oh,  there  lives  my  sweet  Luluanna. 

(1horus — 

is  fair  as  the  dawn,  as  mild  as  the  eve. 
And  as  graceful  as  the  bold  Susquehanna ; 
She  is  my  ideal,  an  Angel  of  the  earth. 
The  idol  of  my  heart  is  Luluanna. 

If  I  were  a  fish  I  would  swim  by  her  side, 

he  sails  on  the  bold  Susquehanna: 
I  would  dream  of  her  by  night,  I'd  think  of  her  by  day. 
Till  I  won  the  heart  of  Luluanna. 


PATRICK  SHEEHAX. 

My  name  is  Patrick  Sheehau,  my  years  are  thirty-four, 

1  was  born  in  Tipperary,  not  far  from  Galtimore ; 

I  came  of  honest  parents,  but  now  they  are  lying  low. 

And  it's  many  the  happy  days  I  spent  in  the  glens  of  Aherloe. 

My  father  died,  I  closed  his  eyes  outside  our  cabin  door, 

The  landlord  and  the  sheriff,  too,  were  there  the  day  before; 

It  was  then  my  poor  old  mother  and  sisters,  two,  also, 

"With  broken  hearts  were  forced  to  leave  the  glens  of  Aherloe. 

Then  for  three  months  in  search  of  work  I  rambled  far  and  near, 
Then  I  went  unto  the  poor  house  to  see  my  mother  dear; 
The  news  I  heard  nigh  broke  my  heart,  but  yet  in  all  my  woe, 
I  blest  the  friends  that  made  their  graves  in  the'  glens  of  Aherloe. 

Bereft  of  home,  of  kith  and  kin,  and  plenty  all  around, 
I  starved  within  my  cabin  and  slept  upon  the  ground; 
•ruel  as  my  lot  it  was.  I  ne'er  did  hardships  know. 
Until  I  joined  the  English  army  far  away  from  Aherloe. 

"Get  up,  you  lazy  Irish  dog,"  the  corporal  he  came  around, 
"Don't  you  hear  the  bugle,  the  called  to  arms,  sound.1" 

-.  I  had  been  dreaming  of  days  long,  long  ago, 
And  I  woke  before  Sebastapool,  and  not  in  Aherloe. 

I  groped  for  my  musket,  how  dark  I  thought  the  night  1 
Oh,  blessed  God,  it  was  not  dark,  it  was  the  broad  daylight; 
And  when  I  found  that  I  was  blind,  the  tears  they  down  did  flow 
And  I  longed  for  even  a  pauper's  grave  in  the  glens  of  Aherloe. 


Now  a  x>oor,  forlorn  mendicant,  I  wander  through  the  streets, 
My  nine  months'  pension  being  out,  I  beg  from  all  I  meet; 
But  since  I  joined  my  country's  tyrants  my  face  I  ne'er  will 

show 
To  the  kind  and  loving  neighbors  in  the  glens  of  Aherloe. 

Oh,  Blessed  Virgin  Mar}%  mine  is  a  mournful  tale, 
A  poor  blind  prisoner  here  I  lie  in  Dublin's  dreary  jail; 
Struck  blind  within  the  trenches  where  I  never  feared  the  foe, 
But  now  I  never  more  will  see  my  own  sweet  Aherloe. 

Now.  youths  and  fellow  countrymen,  take  heed  to  what  I  say. 
Don't  ever  join  the  English  ranks  or  you'll  surely  rue  tlie  day , 
And  if  ever  you  are  tempted  a-soldiering  to  go, 
Remember  poor  blind  Sheehan  and  the  glens  of  Aherloe. 


MORRISY  AND  THE  RUSSIAN  SAILOR. 

Come,  all  you  sons  of-  Erin,  attention  now  I  crave, 
While  I  relate  the  praises  of  an  Irish  hero  brave ; 
Concerning  a  great  fight,  me  boys,  all  on  the  other  day, 
Between  a  Russian  sailor  and  bold  Jack  Morrisy. 

It  was  in  Tierra  Del  Fuego,  in  South  America, 

The  Russian  challenged  Morrisy  and  unto  him  did  say, 

"I  hear  you  are  a  fighting  man  and  wear  a  belt,  I  see; 

"What  do  you  say,  will  you  consent  to  have  a  round  with  me?" 


Then  up  spoke  bold  Jack  Morrisy,  with  a  heart  so  stout  and  true, 
Saying,  "I  am  a  gallant  Irishman  that  never  was  subdued; 
Oh,  I  can  whale  a  Yankee,  a  Saxon  bull  or  bear, 
And  in  honor  of  old  Paddy's  land  I'll  still  those  laurels  wear. 

These  words  enraged  the  Russian  upon  that  foreign  land, 
To  think  that  he  would  be  put  down  by  any  Irishman; 
He  says,  "You  are  too  light  for  me,  on  that  make  no  mistake, 
I  would  have  you  to  resign  the  belt,  or  else  your  life  I  '11  take. ' ' 

To  fight  upon  the  tenth  of  June  those  heroes  did  agree, 
And  thousands  came  from  every  part  the  battle  for  to  see; 
The  English  and  the  Russians,  their  hearts  were  filled  with  glee, 
They  swore  the  Raissian  sailor  boy  would  kill  bold  Morrisy. 

They  both  stripped  off,  stepped  in  the  ring,  most'  glorious  to 

be  seen, 
And  Morrisy  put  on  the  belt,  bound    'round  with  shamrocks^ 

green, 
Full  twenty  thousand  dollars,  as  you  may  plainly  see, 
That  was  to  be  the  champion's  prize  that  gained  the  rictory. 

4 


X 


They  both  shook  hands,  walked    'round  the  ring  commencing 

then  to  fight, 
It  filled  each  Irish  heart  with  joy  for  to  behold  the  sight ; 
The  Russian  he  floored  Morrisy  up  to  the  eleventh  round, 
With  English,  Russian  and  Saxon  cheers  the  valley  did  resound. 

A  minute  and  a  half  our  hero  lay  before  he  could  rise, 

The  word  went  all  about  the  field,   "He's   dead!"  were   all 

their  cries; 
But  Morrisy  worked  manfully  and,  raising  from  the  ground, 
From  that  until  the  twentieth  the  Russian  he  put  down. 

Up  to  the  thirty-seventh  round  'twas  fall  and  fall  about, 
"Which  made  the  burly  sailor  to  keep  a  sharp  look-out; 
The  Russian  called  his  second  and  asked  for  a  glass  of  wine, 
Our  Irish  hero  smiled  and  said,  "This  battle  will  be  rnine." 

The  thirty-eighth  decided  all,  the  Russian  felt  the  smart, 
When  Morrisy.  with  a  fearful  blow,  he  struck  him  o'er  the  heart, 
A  doctor  he  was  called  on  to  open  up  a  vein, 
He  said  it  was  quite  useless,  he  would  never  fight  again. 

Our  hero  conquered  Thompson,  the  Yankee  clipper,  too, 
The  Benicia  boy  and  Sheppard  he  nobly  did  subdue; 
So  let  us  fill  a  flowing  bowl  and  drink  a  health  galore 
To  brave  Jack  Morrisy  and  Paddies  evermore. 


THE  DYING  SOLDIER. 

Oh,  the  moon  looked  down  from  an  azure  sky, 

When  the  deadly  fight  was  o'er. 
On  the  battle  field  where  the  ))rave  laid  low, 

Whom  life  could  claim  no  more: 
And  her  pale  light  cast  on  the  damp,  cold  earth, 

Where  a  wounded  soldier  lay. 
O'er  whose  face  there  crept  the  shade  of  death, 

As  his  life's  blood  ebbed  away. 

The  dying  soldier  raised  his  hand, 

And   gently  brushed  aside 
The -raven  locks  that  his  heart's  blood 

To  crimson  red  had  dyed; 
Then  faintly,  lowly,  comrade  said, 

"Not  long  on  earth's  my  stay, 
Xo  more  I'll  roam  in  my  childhood's  home, 

In  old  Erin  far  away.  ' 

"But  a  lock  of  hair  I  pray  you  bear 
5 


Mfr  mother  o'er  the  sea, 
So  that  when  upon  it  she  may  look, 

She'll  kindly  think  of  me; 
And  tell  her  though  mid  India's  sands, 

My  mouldering  dust  may  lay, 
My  heart  is  still  in  Erin, 

Old  Erin,  far  away. 

' '  Tell  my  sister,  though  long  years  have  passed 

Since  I  saw  her  smiling  face, 
That  her  form's  still  present  to  my  mind, 

Each  feature  I  can  trace; 
And  at  this,  my  last  and  dying  hour, 

My  wandering  thoughts  they  stray 
To  those  grassy  glades  where  oft  we  played, 

In  old  Erin  far  away. 

"Tell  my  brothers  that  I  nobly  fought, 

And  as  our  father  died, 
With  my  bayonet  charging  on  the  foe, 

And  sabjtf  by  my  side; 
It  nerved  my  heart  to  conquer, 

And  the  Sepoy  foe  to  slay, 
As  visions  bright  came  o'er  my  sight 

Of  old  Erin  far  away. 

"Tell  the  friends  with  whom  in  childhood 
I  played  'round  the  old  oak  tree, 

That  my  last  breath  blest  them  dying, 
In  a  land  far  o  'er  the  sea ; 

And  tell  them  that  I  bled  and  fought, 
;  On  this  eventful  day, 

For  Britania's  honor,  Britania's  Queen, 
And  old  Erin  far  away." 

His  voice  grew  low  and  Aveaker, 

And  slowly  sank  his  head, 
His  comrade  stooped  to  raise  him, 

But  the  spark  of  life  had  fled; 
A  'j  rave  was  made  in  which  he  was  laid, 

Ere  closed  the  waning  day, 
Far  from  those  haunts  he  loved  so  well, 

In  old  Erin  far  awav. 


A>vD  THEY  CALLED  IT  IRELAND. 

Did  you  ever  hear  the  story  of  how  Ireland  got  its  name? 

6 


'11  you  so  you'll  understand  from  whence  ould  Ireland 
came. 

wonder  we  are  proud  of  that  dear  land  across  the  sea, 
For  this  is  how  my  good  ould  mother  tould  the  tale  to  me: 

Sure,  a  little  drop  of  Heaven  fell  from  out  the  sky  one  day, 
And  it  settled  on  the  ocean  in  a  spot  so  far  away. 
And  when  the  angels  found  it,  it  looked  so  sweet  and  fair, 
They  said,  ' '  Suppose  we  leave  it,  for  it  seems  so  peaceful  there. ' ' 

And  they  showered  dew  upon  it  just  to  see  the  shamrocks  grow, 
It's  the  only  place  you'll  find  them,  no  matter  where  you  go; 
Then  they  sprinkled  it  with  star  dust,  just  to  make  her  lakes 

so  grand, 
And  when  they  had  it  finished,  they  called  it  Ireland. 

It's  the  Home  of  the  Shillalah  and  the  wondrous  wishing  well, 
And  there's  not  a  spot  on  God's  green  earth  where  there's  such 
lakes  and  dells. 
wader  that  the  angels  loved  her  Shamrock-bordered  shore, 
It's  a  little  drop  of  Heaven,  and  I  love  it  more  and  more. 


PATRICK  RILEY. 

My  name  is  Patrick  Riley,  the  truth  I  will  make  known, 
And  I  was  born  near  Clonis,  in  the  County  of  Tyronne; 
My  parents  reared  me  tenderly,  they  had  no  child  but  me, 
And  with  them  I  lived  contented  till  the  age  of  twenty-three. 

It  was  then  I  took  a  notion  to  cross  the  raging  sea, 

In  search  of  some  promotion  unto  America; 

To  seek  employment  in  that  land,  a  fortune  to  obtain, 

And  when  I  had  secured  it,  to  return  straight  home  again. 

Alas,  I  had  a  sweetheart,  Jane  Wilson  was  her  name, 

And  when  she  heard  I  was  going  away,  straightway  to  me  she 

came, 
And  she  said,  "Can  it  be  possible  that  you  will  prove  so  unkind, 
As  to  go  away  and  leave  me  broken-hearted  here  behind 

^'Dear  Jane,"  said  I,  "be  not  afraid;  it's  you  I  do  adore, 
My  daily  thoughts  will  be  of  you  while  on  Columbia's  shore, 
And  when  I  do  return  again,  if  God  spares  me  my  life. 
Here  is  my  hand  in  promise  that  T'll  make  you  my  wife." 

With  this  she  seemed  quite  reconciled  and  home  straightway 

she  went, 
And  down  to  Justice  Harrington  the  very  next  day  she  went, 

7 


And  she  swore  I  had  ill-used  her,  had  treated  her  shamefully, 
I  had  robbed,  her  of  her  virgin  bloom  which  proved  her  destiny.' 

I  soon  was  apprehended,  as  you  may  understand, 

And  they  marched  me  off  to  Liffy  jail  at  the  Magistrate's 

command ; 
It's  there  I  lay  in  irons  until  my  trial  day, 
Oh,  little  did  I  ever  think  she'd  swear  my  life  away. 

On  the  twenty-first  day  of  July  my  trial  it  came  on, 
This  maid,  being  void  of  Scripture,  before  the  judge  did  stand, 
And  she  swore  I  had  waylaid  her  and  robbed  her  of  five  pound, 
And  tried  to  force  her  in  a  pool  where  she  soon  would  have  been 
drowned. 

The  judge  then  charged  the  jury  with  words  that  were  severe, 
Saying,  "This  maid  must  now  be  rightified  for  all  she's  had 

to  bear." 
The  jury  gave  their  verdict,  aloud  the  judge  did  cry, 
"For  your  cruelty  unto  this  maid,  young  Riley,  you  must  die." 

When  I  received  my  sentence  my  eyes  with  tears  did  flow, 
The  thoughts  of  leaving  my  mother  in  sorrow,  grief  and  woe; 
She  being  so  far  advanced  in  years  and  had  no  child  but  me, 
How  conld  she  bear  to  see  me  hang  upon  the  gallows  tree? 

And  now  as  I'm  about  to  meet  my  God,  all  on  this  very  day, 
I  never  injured  that  fair  false  one  that  swore  my  life  away; 
The  time  is  fast  approaching,  I  have  no  more  to  say, 
May  the  Lord  receive  my  soul  with  joy;  good  people,  for  me 
pray. 


THE  ARKANSAW  NAVVY. 

Come  listen  to  my  story  and  I'll  tell  you  in  my  chant 

It's  the  lamentation  of  an  Irish  emigrant, 

Who  lately  crossed  the  ocean  and  misfortune  never  saw, 

'Till  he  worked  upon  the  railroad  in  the  State  of  Arkansaw 

When  I  landed  in  St.  Louis  I'd  ten  dollars  and  no  more, 
I  read  the  daily  papers  until  both  me  eyes  were  sore; 
I  was  looking  for  advertisements  until  at  length  I  saw 
Five  hundred  men  were  wanted  in  the  State  of  Arkansaw. 

Oh,  how  me  heart  it  bounded  when  I  read  the  joyful  news, 
Straightway  then  I  started  for  the*  raging  Billie  Hughes; 
Says  he,  ' '  Hand  me  five  dollars  and  a  ticket  you  will  draw 
That  will  take  you  to  the  railroad  in  the  State  of  Arkansaw. 

8 


I  handed  him  the  money,  but  it  gave  me  soul  a  shock, 
And  soon  was  safely  landed  in  the  city  of  Little  Rock; 
There  was  not  a  man  in  all  that  land  that  would  extend  to  me 

his  paw, 
And  say,  "You're  heartily  welcome  to  the  State  of  Arkansaw." 

I  wandered  'round  the  depot,  I  rambled  up  and  down, 
I  fell  in  with  a  man  catcher  and  he  said  his  name  was  Brown; 
He  says,  "You  are  a  stranger  and  you're  looking  rather  raw, 
On  yonder  hill  is  me  big  hotel,  it's  the  best  in  Arkansaw." 

Then  I  followed  my  conductor  up  to  the  very  place, 
"Where  poverty  was  depicted  in  his  dirty,  brockey  face; 
His  bread  was  corn  dodger  and  his  mate  I  couldn't  chaw, 
And  fifty  cents  he  charged  for  it  in  the  State  of  Arkansaw. 

Then  I  shouldered  up  my  turkey,  hungry  as  a  shark, 

Traveling  along  the  road  that  leads  to  the  Ozarks ; 

It  would  melt  your  heart  with  pity  as  I  trudged  along  the  track, 

To  see  those  dirty  bummers  with  their  turkeys  on  their  backs. 

Such  sights  of  dirty  bummers  I'm  sure  you  never  saw 

As  worked  upon  the  railroad  in  the  State  of  Arkansaw. 

I  am  sick  and  tired  of  railroading  and  I  think  I'll  give  it  o'er, 
I'll  my  the  pick  and  shovel  down  and  I'll  railroad  no  more; 
I'll  go  out  in  the  Indian  nation  and  I'll  marry  me  there  a  squaw, 
And  I'll  bid  adieu  to  railroading  and  the  State  of  Arkansaw. 


IRELAND  MUST  BE  HEAVEN,  FOE  MY  MOTHER 
CAME  FROM  THERE. 

I've  often  heard  my  daddy  speak  of  Ireland's  lakes  and  dells, 
The  place  must  be  like  Heaven,  if  it's  half  like  what  he  tells; 
There's  roses  fair  and  shamrocks  there,  and  laughing  waters 

flow ; 
I've  never  seen  that  Isle  of  Green,  but  there's  one  thing  sure, 

I  know — 
Refrain — 
Ireland  must  be  Heaven,  for  an  angel  came  from  there, 
I  never  knew  a  living  soul  one-half  as  sweet  or  fair, 
For  her  eyes  are  like  the  star-light,  and  the  white  clouds  match 

her  hair; 
Sure.  Ireland  must  be  Heaven,  for  my  mother  came  from  there. 

pictured  in  my  fondest  dreams  old  Ireland's  vales  and  rills, 
I  see  a  stairway  to  the  sky,  formed  by  her  verdant  hills; 
Each  wave  that's  in  the  ocean  blue  just  loves  to  hug  the  store, 
So  if  Ireland  isn't  Heaven,  then  sure,  it  must  be  right  next  door. 

9 


THE   GIRL   I  LEFT   BEHIND. 

Mjy  parents  reared  me  tenderly,  they  had  no  child  but  me. 
My  mind  being  bent  on  rambling,  with  them  could  not  a 
So  soon  became  a  rover,  which  grieved  their  hearts  full  sore, 
I  left  my  aged  parents,  I  ne'er  Avill  see  them  more. 

There  lived  a  wealthy  farmer  in  the  country  close  by, 

He  had  a  lovely  daughter  and  on  her  I'd  cast  my  eye; 

She  was  noble-minded,  tall,  beautiful  and  fair, 

With  Columbia's  loveliest  daughters  she  truly  could  compare. 

I  told  her  my  intentions  was  soon  to  cross  the  main, 
And  asked  if  she  would  be  true  to  me  until  I  returned  again; 
Great  drops  of  tears  stood  in  her  eyes,  her  bosom  heaved  a  sigh, 
"Dear  youth,"  says  she,  "fear  not. for  me,  mv  love  will  never 
die." 

But  somewhere  I  have  heard  or  read  that  which  I  cannot  be- 
lieve, 

That  distance  breaks  the  links  of  love  and  leaves  the  maid  to 
grieve : 

I  fondly  clasped  her  to  my  breast  and  kissed  away  her  tears, 

And  I  swore  by  Him  above  the  skies  that  I  would  be  sincere. 

According  to  agreement,  then,  I  went  on  board  the  ship 
And  to  the  town  of  Glasgow  I  had  a  pleasant  trip: 
I  found  that  gold  was  plenty  there,  and  girls  were  free  and  kind, 
And  my  thoughts  began  to  cool  a  bit  for  the  girl  I  left  behind. 

For  Dumfries  town  I  next  set  out,  that  hospitable  land, 
Where  handsome  Jennie  Ferguson  she  took  me  by  the  hand; 
&h~e  says,  "I've  gold  in  plenty  and  love  for  you  I  find/' 
And  the  thoughts  of  gold  destroyed  my  love  for  the  maid  I 
left  behind. 

She  says,  "If  you  will  many  me  and  say  no  more  you'll  rove, 
The  gold  that  I've  got  is  yours,  and  I  will  faithful  prove; 
But  friends  or  relations  that  you  have  left  behind. 
Ton  never,  if  you  marry  me,  again  must  bear  in  mind. 

To  this  I  soon  consented,  I  own  it  to  my  shame, 
For  what  man  can  be  happy  when  he , knows  he  is  to  blame? 
It's  true  I've  gold  in  plenty,  my  wife  is  somewhat  kind, 
But  my  pillow  still  is  haunted  by  the  friends  I  left  behind. 

My  father  in  his  winding  sheet,  my  mother,  too,  appears, 
The  girl  I  loved  seems  by  their  sides,  a-kissing  away4heir  tears; 
Of  broken  hearts  they  all  have  died  and  now  too  late  I  find 
That  God  has  seen  my  cruelty  to  the  girl  I  left  behind. 

10 


THE  BANK  OF  THE  LITTLE  AUPLAINE. 

One  evening  in  June  as  I  rambled 

Through  the  green  woods  and  meadows  alone, 
The  meadow  larks  warbled  melodious, 
I  merrily  the  whipporwill  sung; 
The  frogs  in  the  marshes  were  croaking,  ^ 

The  tree-toads  were  whistling  for  rain. 
And  the  partridge  all  around  me  were  drumming, 

On  the  banks  of  the  Little  Auplaine. 

The  sun  to  the  West  a-declining, 

Had  shaded  the  tree  tops  with  red. 
My  wandering  feet  led  me  onward, 

Not  caring  wherever  I  strayed. 
Till  by  chance  I  beheld  a  fair  school  ma'am. 

Who  most  bitterly  did  complain,. 
It  was  all  for  the  loss  of  her  lover 

From  the  banks  of  the  Little  Auplaine. 

I  boi  >ped  up  to  this  fair  one, 

And  this  unto  her  I  did  say, 
"Why  are  you  so  sad  and  so  mournful. 

When  all  nature  is  smiling-  and  gay'" 
;'It's  all  for  a  jolly  young  raftsman, 

But  I  fear  I  will  see  him*  no  more. 
For  he  is  down  on  the  Wisconsin  River, 

A-pulling  a  fifteen-foot  oar." 

"If  it's  all  for  a  .jolly  young  raftsman 

You  are  here  in  such  awful  despair, 
Pray  tell  me  the  name  of  your  true  love. 

And  what  kind  of  clothes  did  he  wear?" 
'•His  pants  were  made  of  two  meal  sac 

With  a  patch  a  foot  wide  on  each  knee, 
And  his  jacket  and  shirt  they- were  dyed 

With  the  bark  of  the  butternut  tree. 

''His  hair  was  inclined  to  be  curly, 

His  whig  red  as  the  sun, 

He  was  tall,  square-shouldered  and  handsome. 

His  height  was  six  feet  and  one. 
His  name  was  young  Johnnie  Murphy, 

And  his  equal  I  ne'er  saw  before, 
But  he  is  down  on  the  Wisconsin  River, 

A-pulling  a  fifteen-foot  oar." 

"If  Johnnie  Murphy  was  the  name  of  your  true  love, 
He  was  a  man  I  knew  very  well. 
11 


But  sad  is  the  tale  I  must  tell  you, 

Your  Johnnie  was  drowned  in  the  Dalles. 

We  buried  him  'neath  a  scrub  Norway, 
And  his  face  you  will  ne'er  see  again; 
^No  stone  marks  the  grave  of  your  lover, 

And  he  is  far  from  the  Little  Auplaine.'-' 

When  she  heard  me  say  this  she  fainted, 

x\nd  fell  at  my  feet  like  one  dead; 
I  scooped  Vp  a  hat  full  of  water 

And  threw  it  all  over  her  head. 
She  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  wildly, 

She  acted  like  one  that's  insane, 
I  thought  to  n^self  she  had  gone  crazy 

On  the  banks  of  the  Little  x\uplaine. 

"My  curse  be  upon  you,  Ross  Campbell, 

For  taking  my  Johnnie  away; 
May  the  eagles  take  hold  of  your  body, 

And  sink  it  'way  down  in  the  clay. 
May  your  lumber  all  go  to  the  bottom, 

Never  rise  to  the  surface  no  more; 
May  all  of  your  creeks  and  your  sandbars 

Go  as  dry  as  the  log  schoolhouse  floor. 

' '  And  now,  I  will  leave  this  location, 

I'll  teach  district  school  no  more; 
I  will  go  where  never,  no  never, 

I  will  hear  the  screech  of  a  fifteen-foot  oar. 
I  will  go  to  some  far  distant  country, 

To  England,  to  France  or  to  Spain, 
But  I  will  never  forget  Johnnie  Murphy 

Or  the  banks  of  the  Little  Auplaine. 


RED  IRON  ORE. 

Come,  all  you  bold  sailors  that  follow  the  lakes 
On  an  iron  ore  vessel,  your  living  to  make; 
I  shipped  in  Chicago,  bid  adieu  to  the  shore, 
Bound  away  to  Escanaba  for  red  iron  ore. 
Derry  Down,  Down,  Down,  Derry  Down. 

In  the  month  of  September,  the  seventeenth  day, 
Two  dollars  and  a  quarter  is  all  they  would  pay, 
And  on  Monday  morning  from  Bridgeport  did  take 
The  E.  C.  Roberts  out  in  the  lake. 

Derry  Down,  Down,  Down,  Derry  Down. 

12 


Tiie  wind  from  the  southard  sprang  up  a  fresh  breeze, 

away  through  Lake  Michigan  the  Roberts  did  sneeze, 
q  through  Lake  Michigan  the  Roberts  did  roar, 
And  on  Friday  morning  we  passed  through  death's  door. 
Derry  Down,  Down,  Down,  Derry  Down. 

This  packet  she  howled  across  the  mouth  of  Green  Bay, 
And  before  her  cut  water  she  dashed  the  white  spray; 
We  rounded  the  sand  point,  our  anchor  let  go, 
We  furled  in  our  canvas. and  the  watch  went  below. 
Deny  Down,  Down,  Down,  Derry  Down. 

Next  morning  we  hove  alongside  the-  " Exile,' 3 
And  soon  was  made  fast  to  an  iron  ore  pile; 
They  lowered  their  chutes  and  like  thunder  did  roar. 
They  spouted  into  us  that  red  iron  ore. 

Derry  Down,  Down,  Down,  Derry  Down. 

Some  sailors  took  shovels,  while  others  got  spades, 
And  some  took  wheelbarrows,  each  man  to  his  trade. 
We  looked  like  red  devils,  our  fingers  got  sore, 
We  cursed  Escanaba  and  damned  iron  ore. 
Deny  Down,  Down,  Down,  Derry  Down. 

The  tug  Escanaba  she  towed  out  the  ' '  MSnch, ' ' 
The  Roberts,  she  thought,  she  had  been  left  in  a  pinch, 
And  as  they  passed  by  us  they  bid  us  goodbye, 
Saying,  "We'll  meet  you  in  Cleveland  next  Fourth  of  July." 
Derry  Down,  Down,  Down,  Derry  Down. 

Through  Louse  Island  passage  it  blew  a  fresh  breeze. 
We  made  the  Foxes,  the  Beavers  and  Skillagel 
We  flew  by  the  Minch  for  to  show  her  the  way, 
And  she  ne'er  hove  in  sight  till  we  were  off  Thunder  Bay. 
Derry  Down,  Down,  Down,  Derry  Down. 

oss  Saginaw  Bay  the  Roberts  did  ride, 
With  the  dark  and  deep  water  rolling  over  her  side, 
And  now  for  Port  Huron  the  Roberts  must  go, 
Where  the  tug  Kate  Williams  she  took  us  in  tow. 

Derry  Down,  Down,  Down,  Derry  Down. 

We  went  through  North  passage — oh,  Lord,  how  it  blew! 
And  all  'round  the  Dummy  a  large  fleet  there  came,  too; 
The  night  being  dark,  Old  Nick  it  would  scare. 
We  hove  up  next  morning  and  for  Cleveland  did  steer.  t 
Derry  Down,  Downr  Down,  Derry  Down. 

Now  the  Roberts  is  in  Cleveland,  made  fast  stem  and  stern, 
And  over  the  bottle  we'll  spin  a  big  yarn, 

13 


But  Captain  Harvey  Shannon  had  ought  to  stand  treat 
For  getting  into  Cleveland  ahead  of  the  fleet. 
Perry  Down,  Down,  Down,  Derry  Down. 

Now  1113'  song  it  is  ended,  I  hope  you  won't  laugh, 
Our  dunnage  is  packed  and  all  hands  are  paid  off; 
Here  is  health  to  the  Roberts,  she's  staunch,  strong  and  true, 
Not  forgotten  the  bold  boys  that  comprise  lie*r  crew. 
Derry  Down,  Down,  Down,  Derry  Down. 


THE  CHARGE  AT  FREDRICKSBURG. 

It  was  just  before  the  last  fierce  charge, 

Two  soldiers  drew  their  rein, 
With  a  parting  word  and  touch  of  the  hand, 

They  might  never  meet  again; 
One  had  blue  eyes  and  sunny  curls, 

Nineteen  but  a  month  ago, 
Red  on  his  cheek,  down  on  his  chin, 

He  was  only  a  boy,  you  know. 

The  other  was  dark  and  tall  and  stern, 

His  fate  in  the  world  was  dim. 
He  trusted  more  in  those  he  lovecl. 

They  were  all  the  world  to  him. 
They  had  ridden  together  in  many  a  raid, 

They  had  marched  for  many  a  mile, 
But  never  before  had  they  met  the  foe 

With  a  calm  and  hopeful  smile. 

Now  they  looked  into  each  other's  eye 

With  an  awful,  ghastly  gloom. 
The  tall,  dark  man  was  first  to  speak, 

Saying,  "Charlie,  my  hour  has  come, 
Together  we'll  ride  up  the  hill, 

But  you'll  ride  back  alone; 
But  it  is  little  trouble  for  me  take 

When  I  am  dead  and  gone. 

"You  will  find- a  fond  face  breast, 

I'll  wear  it  in  the  fight, 
With  soft  blue  eyes  and  sunny  curls 

That  shine  like  morning  light: 
Like  morning  light  was  her  love  for  me, 

She  gladdened  my  weary  life, 
And  it's  little  I  cared  for  the  frowns  of  fate 

When  she  promised  to  be  my  wife. 

14 


"Write  to  her.  Charlie,  when  I  am  gone, 

Send  back  that  fond,  sweet  face, 
And  tell  her  tenderly  how  I  died, 

I  where's  my  resting  place; 
Tell  her  my  soul  will  wait  for  h 

In  the* border  land  between; 
This  earth  is'  Heaven  until  she  comes, 

It  will  not  be  long,  I  wene." 

Tears  dimmed  the  blue  eyes  of  the  b< 
His  voice  grew  hoarse  with  pain. 

Saying,  "111  do  your  bidding.   Comrade  mine, 
I  ride  back  again ; 

But  if  you  ride  back  and  I  am  dead. 
You  will  do  the  same  for  me ; 

My  Mother  at  home  must  hear  fhe  news. 
So  write  to  her  tenderly. 

"One  after  another  of  those  she  loved 

She  buried  both  husband  and  son; 
I  was  the  last  my  country  caller, 

She  kissed  and  sent  me  on. 
She  is  praying  at  home  like  a  waiting  saint, 

With  her  fond  face  white  with  w 
Her  heart  will  be  broke  when  I  am  gone, 

I  will  see  her  soon,  I  know." 

Just  then  the  order  came  to  charge. 

For   an  instant  hand  touched  hand. 
Aye  answered  aye  and  on  they  went, 

That  brave,  devoted  band: 
Straight  on  they  went  to  the  crest  of  the  hill, 

Where  the  rebels  with  shot  and  shell 
Mowed  rifts  of  death  in  our  toiling  rani 

And  jeered  them  as  they  fell. 

They  turned  with  an  awful,  dying  yell 

From  the  heights  they  could  not  gain. 
And  those  that  death  and  doom  had  spared 

Rode  slowly  back  again: 
In  the  midst  of  their  dead  they  have  left  behind 

The  boy  with  the  curly  hair. 
And  the  tall,  dark  man  that  rode  by  his  side 

Lay  dead  alone  with  him  there. 

There  is  none  to  write  to  that  lovely  girl 

The  words  that  her  lover  said, 
And  the  mother  that  waits  for  her  boy  at  home 

Will  onlv  hear,  "He's  dead." 


And  never  will  know  the  last  fond  thoughts 
That  sought  to  soften  her  pain, 

Until  she  crosses  the  border  land 
And  stands  by  his  side  again. 


0  'SHAUGHANESEY. 

Oh,  me  name  it  is  O'Shaughanesey,  the  truth  I  now  will  tell 

to  ye. 
I  work  upon  the  section  and  I  am  an  Irishman; 
But  some  brakemen  came  the  other  day  and  unto  myself  these 

words  did  say, 
"O'Shaughanesey,  you  must  away  to  go  braking  on  the  train/' 

They  took  me  out  into  the  yard,  they  put  in  me  hand  a  big 

time  card, 
They  told  me  braking  wasn't  hard,  if  I  was  only  game. 
They  put  on  me  head  a  railroad  cap,  they  said  it  belonged  to 

Oliver  Spratt, 
Another  dacent  Irish  chap  that  was  braking  on  the  train. 

They  sent  me  out  on  Number  Tin,  'twas  then  me  troubles  did 
begin, 

And  where  in  the  divil  they  all  came  in  it  nearly  racked  me 
brain; 

For  one  would  send  me  for  a  pin,  the  other  would  fire  me  back 
again, 

And  they  kept  me  running  from  end  to  end  when  I  was  brak- 
ing on  the  train. 

They  sent  me  after  some  red  "ile,"  with  the  boys  I  had  a  terri- 
ble trial, 

The  boss  sair  he  was  out  of  it,  but  told  me  to  call  again ; 

I  axed  him  for  a  flat  car  key,  'twas  then  his  eye  he  winked  at  me, 

Saying,  "I  think  your  name  is  O'Shaughanesey  that's  braking 
on  the  train. 

We  had  a  dale  of  switching  to  do  in  a  yard,  on  meself  it  came 
most  mighty  hard, 

And  how  in  the  divil  it  happened  I'm  sure  I  never  can  tell; 

For  they  sent  me  to  make  a  flying  switch,  meself  and  the  box- 
car went  in  the  ditch, 

The  conductor  called  me  a  son  of  a  b —  when  I  was  braking 
on  the  train. 

They  sent  me  out  on  the  upper  deck,  I  thought  I'd  surely  break 
me  neck, 

16 


I  hung  onto  the  running  board  until  both  me  hands  were  sore; 
'Twas  then  I  thought  about  me  sins,  for  I  could  hardly  stand 

upon  me  pins, 
Oh,  God,  forgive  me  if  ever  again  I  go  braking  on  a  train! 

The  engine  got  stuck  and  the  cars  came  back,  and  they  sent  me 

back  to  take  the  slack, 
I  hunted  all  around  for  it,  but  hunted  all  in  vain. 
The  conductor  he  did  loudly  yell,  "Set  up  that  brake,  damn 

your  soul  to  hell, 
Oh,  what  a  misfortune  on  me  befell  when  I  went  braking  on 

a  train. 

My  Sunday  pants  were  minus  a  sate,  I  tore  them  out  unloading 

freight, 
And  through  a  hole  as  big  as  Xew  York  my  skin  showed  clear 

and  clane; 
The  boys  were  laughing  all  the  while,  saying,  "  0  'Shaughanesey, 

where  did  you  get  your  style?" 
My  blood  with  madness  fairly  biled  when  I  was  braking  on 

the  train. 


THE  LASS  OF  MOHE. 

[  went  a- walking  one  morning  in  May, 
For  fond  recreation  the  time  passed  away, 
As  I  sat  amusing  myself  by  a  pass 
There  chanced  to  come  along  a  fine  Indian  lass. 

She  sat  down  beside  me,  took  hold  of  my  hand, 
Saying,  "You  are  a  stranger,  far  from  your  own  land, 
But  if  you  will  go  with  me  you  are  welcome  to  come, 
For  I  live  by  myself  in  a  snug  little  home." 

The  sun  was  a-sinkina*  down  in  the  salt  sea 
When  I  went  a-walking  with  a  lass  of  Mohe; 
We  walked  and  we  talked  till  we  came  to  her  home, 
And  there  stood  her  cot  in  a  cocoanut  grove. 

I  tarried  all  night  till  the  day  did  appear, 

My  ship  being  ready,  for  home  I  must  steer, 

"Good  morning,  good  morning,  fare  you  well,  oh,  my  dear, 

My  ship  it  is  ready  and  for  home  I  must  steer." 

With  theJ  fondest  expression  this  fair  one  did  say, 
"If  you  will  stay  with  me  and  not  go  away, 
If  you  will  stay  with  me  and  leave  the  salt  sea, 
I  will  teach  you  the  language  of  the  Isle  of  Mohe." 

17 


I  said,  "My  fair  lady,  that  never  can  be, 
For  I  have  a  true  sweetheart  in  my  own  country/ 
And  I  would  not  forsake  her  for  her  poverty. 
Her  face  is  more  fair  than  the  lass  of  Mbhe. 

And  now  T  am  home  in  my  own  native  land. 
And  friends  and  relations  around  me  do  stand, 
But  of  all  that  come  near  me  or  of  all  that  I  see, 
There  is  none  can  compare  witli  the  lass  of  Moiae. 

For  this  Indian  lass  she  was  modest  and  kind. 
She  acted  her  part  so  beautiful  and  fine, 
When  I  was  a  stranger  she  took  me  to  her  home, 
And  111  think  on  the  Mohe  as  I  wander  alone. 


THE  APPRENTICE  BOY. 

Near  Linster  I  was  born,  not  of  a  high  degree, 
My  parents  they  adored,  me,  they  had  no  child  but  me; 
I  roved  around  for  pleasure  where'er  my  fancy  lay, 
Until  I  was  bound  apprentice,  then  all  joys  passed  away. 

My  master  and  my  mistress  they  did  not  use  me  well, 
I  formed  a  resolution  not  long  with  them  to  dwell ; 
So,  unknown  to  friends  and  kindred,  I  slyly  stole  away, 
And  steered  my  course  to  Dublin,  to  me  a  woeful  day. 

I  had  not  been  in  Dublin  a  day  but  only  three 

When  an  estated  lady  proposed  to  hire  me; 

She  offered  great  inducements  her  waiting  man  to  be, 

If  I  would  go  with  her  to  London,  which  proved  my  destiny. 

Her  offer  I  accepted,  my  fortune  being  low. 
In  hopes  of  grand  promotion  if  along  with  her  I'd  go; 
And  as  we  sailed  over-bound  for  that  British  shore, 
It  is  little  I  thought  I  ne'er  would  see  my  native  country  more. 

When  we  arrived  in  London  to  view  that  fine  city, 

My  evil-minded  mistress  grew  very  fond  of  me; 

She  offered  me  ten  thousand  pounds  to  be  paid  down  in  hand, 

If  I'd  agree  to  marry  her  it  would  be  at  my  command. 

"Qh.  mistress,  honored  mistress,  you  must  excuse  me  now, 

For  I  am  already  promised  upon  a  solemn  vow; 

Yes,  I  am  already  "promised,  and  a  solemn  vow  I've  made, 

To  wed  with  none  but  Jennie,  your  handsome  waiting  maid." 

In  wrath  and  indignation  my  evil  mistress  said. 

18 


"Just  see  how  I  am  slighted  all  for  a  servant  maid: 

;e  you  disdain  my  person  and  the  offer  that  I  make, 
It 's  of  you  I  will  have  revenge  though  my  life  lay  as  a  stake. '  • 

''-Oh,  mistress,  to  offend  thee  I  would  be  very  loath, 

But  I  can  do  nothing  that's  contrary  to  my  oath; 

Contrary  to  my  oath,  madam,  but  supposing  my  vows  were  clear, 

I  would  not  part  with  my  jewel  for  ten  thousand  pounds  a  year." 

One  evening  in  the  garden,  a-taking  in  the  air, 
My  mistress  followed  after  me.  plucking  the  flowers  there: 
Her  gold  repeating  watch  she  took  at  the  passing  of  me  by, 
And  conveyed  it  to  my  pocket,  for  "which  I  now  must  die. 

I  then  was  apprehended,  to  Xew  Gate  I  was  sent, 
Where  I  was  left  in  bondage,  my  sorrows  to  lament: 
Where  I  was  left  in  bondage  until  my  trial  day. 
My  mistress  thought  it  was  no  harm  to  swear  my  life  away. 

And  now  I  am  on  the  gallows  and  I  must  suffer  here, 
Because  I  would  not  break  the  vows  I  made  unto  my  dear; 
Though  far  from  home  and  kindred,  I  bid  the  world  adieu, 
My  charming,  lovely  Jennie,  I  die  for  love  of  you. 


THE  BIGLEITS  CREW. 

Come  all  my  boys  and  listen,  a  song  I'll  sing  to  you, 
It's  all  about  the  Bigler  and  of  her  jolly  crew; 
In  Milwaukee  last  October  I  chanced  to  get  a  sight 
In  the  schooner  called  the  Bigler  belonging  to  Detroit. 

Chorus — 
Watch  her,  catch  her.  jump  up  on  her  juber  ju, 

her  the  sheet  and  let  her  slide,  the  boys  will  push1  her 
through. 
You  ought  to  seen  us  howling,  the  winds  were  blowing  free, 
On  our  passage  down  to  Buffalo  from  Milwaukee, 

It  was  on  a  Sunday  morning  about  the. hour  of  ten, 
The  Robert  Emmet  towed  us  out  into  Lake  Michigan: 
We  set  sail  Where  she  left  us  in  the  middle  of  the  fleet, 
And   the  wind  being  from  the   southard,   oh,   we  had   to   give 
her  she 

Then  the  wind  chopped    'round  to  the  sou  souwest  and  blew 

both  fresh  and  strong. 
But  softly  through  Lake  Michigan  the  Bigler  she  rolled  on, 
And  far  beyond  her  foaming  bow  the  dashing  waves  did  fling, 

19 


With  every  stitch  of  canvas  set,  her  course  was  wing  and  wing. 

But  the  wind  it  came'  ahead  before  we  reached  Hie  Manitous, 
Three  dollars  and  a  half  a  day  just  suited  the  Bigler 's  .crew; 
From  there  unto  the  Beavers  we  steered  her  full  and  by, 
And  we  kept  her  to  the  wind,  my  boys,  as  close  as  she  could  lie. 

Through  Skillagelee  and  Wabble  Shanks  the  entrance  to  the 

Straits, 
We  might  have  passed  the  big  fleet  there  if  they'd  hove  to  and 

wait, 
But  we  drove  them. on  before  us  the  nicest  ever  you  saw, 
Out  into  Lake  Huron  from  the  Straits  of  Mackinaw. 

We  made  Presque  Isle  Light  and  then  we  boomed  away, 

The  wind  it  being  fair,  for  the  Isle  of  Thunder  Bay, 

But  when  the  wind  it  shifted,  we  hauled  her  on  her  starboard 

tack, 
With  a  good  lookout  ahead  for  the  Light  of  the  Point  AuBarques.' 

We  made  the  Light  and  kept  in  sight  of  Michigan  North  Shore, 
A -booming  for  the  river  as  we'd  oft  times  done  before, 
When  right  abreast  Port  Huron  Light  our  small  anchor  we  let  go, 
And  the  Sweepstakes  came  alongside  and  took  the  Bigler  in  tow. 

The  Sweepstakes  took  eight  in  tow  and  all  of  us  fore  and  aft, 
She  towed  us  down  to  Lake  St.  Clare  and  stuck  us  on  the  flats, 
She  parted  the  Hunter's  tow  line  in  trying  to  give  relief, 
And  stem  and  stern  went  the  Bigler  into  the  boat  called  Maple 
Leaf. 

The  Sweepstakes  then  she  towed  us  outside  the  River  Light, 
Lake  Erie  for  to  roam  and  the  blustering  winds  to  fight; 
The  wind  being  from  the  southard  we  paddled  our  own  canoe, 
With   her  nose   pointed   for   the   Dummv,   she's  hell   bent   for 
Buffalo. 

We  made  the  OH  and  passed  long  Point,  the  wind  was  blowing 

free, 
We  fowled  along  the  Canada  shore,  Port  Colborne  on  our  lea: 
What  is  it  "that  looms  up  ahead,  so  well  known  as  we  draw  near, 
For  like  a  blazing  star. shone  the  light  on  Buffalo  Pier. 

And  now  we  are  safely  landed  in  Buffalo  Creek  at  last, 
And  under  Rfiggs'  elevator  the  Bigler  she's  made  fast, 
And  in  some  Lager  beer  saloon  we'll  let  the  bottle  pass, 
For  we  are  jolly  shipmates  and  we'll  drink  a  social  glass. 


20 


DONNELY  AND  COOPER, 

Come,  all  you  true  bred  Irishmen,  I  hope  you  will  lend  ear, 

Unto  as  true  a  story  as  ever  you  did  hear, 

Concerning  Cooper  and  Donnely,  they  fought  on  sweet  Kildare. 

It  was  on  the  tenth  of  June,  my  boys,  that  the  challenge  was 

sent  o'er, 
From  Britania  to  old  Granua  to  raise  her  sons  once  more, 
To  renew  her  satisfaction  their  courage  to  arrear, 
Saying,  "I  hope  you  will  meet  Cooper  at  the  Curragh  of  Kil- 
dare." 

Old  Granua  read  the  message,  she  read  it  with  a  smile, 

Saying,  "You  had  better  hasten  to  Kildare,  my  well  beloved 
child, 

For  there  you,  will  reign  victorious,  as  you  have  often  done 
before, 

And  your  deeds  will  shine  most  glorious  all  around  the  Sham- 
rock Shore." 

After  long  hesitation  bold  Donnely  did  prepare, 
To  go  with  Captain  Kelley  to  the  Curragh  of  Kildare; 
The  English  Lords  bet  ten  to  one  that  day  against  poor  Dan, 
But  such  odds  as  this  ne'er  could  dismiss  the  blood  of  an  Irish- 
man. 

"When  those  two  burly  champions  were  stripped  off  in  the  ring, 
Both  fully  were  determined  each  other's  blood  to  bring; 
From  eight  to  nine  they  parried,  when  Donnely  knocked  him 

down. 
Well  done,  my  child,  and  old  Granua  smiled,  saying,  ' '  That  wins 

one  thousand  pounds. 

Cooper,  being  active,  he  knocked  down  Donnely, 
But  Donnely,  being  of  true  blood,  he  rose  right  manfully ; 
Cooper,  being  active,  knocked  Donnely  down  again, 
Those    English   Peers   they   gave    three    cheers,    saying,    "The 
battle  is  all  in  vain." 

Here  is  long  life  to  one  Miss  Kelley,  who  was  that  day'  upon 

the  plain; 
She  boldly  stepped  into  the  ring,  saying,  "Dan,  what  do  you 

mane? 
You  are  as  true  an  Irishman  the  Gentry  all  may  see, 
My  whole  estate  this  day  I  've  bet  upon  you,  Donnely. ' ' 

"You  need  not  fear,  I  am  not  beat,  although  I've  had  a  fall, 
I  will  let  him  know  before  he  goes  that  he  will  pay  for  all." 
Cooper  stood  on  kis  own  defense,^  exertion  failed  to  show, 

21 


Until  Donncly  gave  him  a  temple  blow  that  proved  his  over- 
throw. 

Oh,  you  sons  of  proud  Britainia,  your  boasting'  how  recall, 

Since  Cooper  he  by  Donnely  has  met  his  sad  downfall; 

Out  of  eleven  rounds  he  got  nine  knockdowns,  besides  broke 

his  jawbone; 
Well  done,  my  child,  and  ould  Granua  smiled,  saying,  "The 

dav  is  all  our  own." 


SKIBBEREEN. 

Father,  dear,  I  often  hear  you  speak  of  Erin's  Isle, 
It  seems  so  bright  and  beautiful,  so  rich  and  rare  the  soil; 
You  say  it  is  a  bounteous  land  wherein  a  prince  might  dwell, 
Then  why  did  you  abandon  it,  the  reason  to  me  tell. 

My  son,  I  loved  my  native  land  with  favor  and  with  pride, 
Her  peaceful   groves,   her  mountains  rude,   her  valleys   green 

and  wide; 
It  was  there  I  lived  in  manhood's  prime  and  sported  when  a  boy, 
The  Shamrock  and  Shillalah  was  my  constant  boast  and  joy. 
But  lo!  a  blight  came  o'er  my  crops,  my  sheep  and  cattle  died, 
The  rent  ran  due,  the  taxes,  too,  I  ne'er  could  have  supplied; 
The  landlord  turned  me  from  the  cot  where  born  had  I  been, 
And  that,  my  boy,  is  the  reason  why  I  left  old  Skibbereen. 

It  is  well  do  I  remember  that  dark  November  day, 
When  the  landlord  and  the  sheriff  came  to  drive  us  all  away; 
They  set  the  roof  a-blazing  with  a  demon  yell  of  Spleen, 
And  when  it  fell  the  crash  was  heard  all  over  Skibbereen. 

Your  mother,  too,  God  rest  her  soul,  fell  on  the  snowy  ground, 
And  fainted  in  her  anguish  at  the  desolation  around-  • 
She  ne'er  recovered,  but  passqd  away  from  life  to  Malchasene, 
And  found  a  grave  of  quiet  rest  in  poor  old  Skibbereen. 

Then  sadly  I  recall  the  days  of  gloomy  Ninety-eight, 

I  rose  in  vengeance  with  the  boys  to  battle  again'  fate; 

We  were  hunted  through  the  mountains  as  traitors  to  the  queen, 

And  that,  my  boy,  is  the  reason  why  I  left  old  Skibbereen. 

You  then,  my  son,  was  scare  three  years  old  and  feeble  was 

your  frame, 
I  would  not  leave  you  with  my  friends,  you  bore  my  Father's 

name; 
I  wrapped  you  in  my  kosamane,  at  dead  of  night  unseen, 
I  hove  a  sigh  and  bade  good-bye  to  poor  old  Skibbereen. 

22 


Then,  father,  father !  when  the  day  for.  vengeance  they  will  call, 
When  Irishmen- o'er  field  and  fin  will  rally  one  and  all, 

I  will  be  the  man  to  lead  the  band  beneath  the  flag  so  green, 
"While  loud  on  high  we  will  raise  the  cry,  ''Revenge  for  Skib- 
bereen." 


COLLEEN  BAWN. 

In.  the  golden  fields  of  Limerick, 

Close  by  the  Shannon  stream. 
There  lives  a  maid  that  holds  my  heart, 

And  haunts  it  like  a  dream; 
With   shining  showers  of  golden  hair, 

As  gentle  as  a  fawn. 
Her  cheeks  would  make  the  red  rose  pale, 

My   darling   Colleen  Bawn. 

Her  hands  are  whiter  than  the  snow, 

Upon  the  mountain  side, 
And  softer  than  the  creamy  foam, 

That  floats  upon  the  tide; 
Her  teeth  like  drops  of  pearly  dew, 

That  sparkles  on  the  lawn, 
Oh,  the  sunshine  of  my  life  she  is, 

My  darling  Colleen  Bawn. 

Although  she  seldom  speaks  to  me, 

I  think  on  her  with  pride. 
For  seven  long  years  I  courted  her, 

And  asked  her  to  be  my  bride; 
But  dreary  spells  of  cold  neglect 

Is  all  from  her  I  have  drawn, 
For  I'm  but  a  poor  laboring  boy, 

And  she's  the  Colleen  Bawn. 

And  to  leave  old  Ireland  far  behind 

Is  oft  times  in  my  mind, 
To  go  roaming  for  some  other  bride, 

And  country  for  to  find; 
But  I  have  seen  some  low  spalpeens, 

Upon  her  footsteps  vaughn, 
Which  keeps  me  near  to  guard  my  dear, 

My  darling  Colleen  Bawn. 

The  ladies  of.  Limerick  have  that  way, 
Throughout  old  Erin's  Isle, 
23 


They  have  fought  upon  the  city  walls, 
As  they  did  in  days  of  yore; 

They  have  kept  away  the  enemy, 
All  night  until  the  dawn,  . 

And  most  worthy  of  the  title 
Is  my  darling  Colleen  Bawn. 


HEENAN  AND  SAYERS. 

It  was  in  merry  England,  the  home  of  Johnnie  Bull, 

Where  Britons  fill  their  glasses,  t]±ey  fill  them  brimming  full, 

And  of  the  toast  they  drank  it  was  to  Briton's  brave, 

And  it  is  long  may  our  champion  bring  victories  o'er  the  wave. 

Tlien  up  jumps  Uncle  Sammy,  and  he  looks  across  the  main, 

Saying,  "Is  that  your  English  bully  I  hear  bellowing  again? 

Oh,  has  he  not  forgotten  the  giant  o'er  the  pond, 

Who  used  to  juggle  cannon  balls  when  his  day's  work  was  done? 

"Remember,  Uncle  Johnnie,  the  giant  stronger  grows, 
He  is  always  on  his  muscle  and  ready 'for  his  foes; 
When  but  a  boy  at  Yorktown  I  caused  you  for  to  sigh, 
So  when  e'er  vou  boast  of  fighting,  Johnnie  Bull,  mind  your 
•eye." 

It  was  in  merry  England,  all  in  the  blooming  spring, 
When  this  burly  English  champion  he  stripped  off  in  the  ring, 
He  stripped  to  fight  young  Heenan,  our  gallant  son  of  Troy, 
And  to  try  his  English  muscle  on  our  bold  Benicia  boy. 

There  were  two  brilliant  flags,  my  boys,  a-f loating  o  'er  the  ring, 
The  British  were  a  lion  all  ready  for  a  spring, 
The  Yankee  was  an  eagle,  and  an  awful  bird  she  was, 
For  she  carried^a  bunch  of  thunderbolts  well  fastened  in  her 
claws. 

The  coppers  they  were  tossed,  me  boys,  the  fighting  did  begin, 
It  was  two  to  one  on  Savers  the  bets  came  rolling  in ; 
They  fought  like  loyal  heroes,  until  one  received  a  blow, 
And  the  red  crimson  torrent  from  our  Yankee's  nose  did  flow. 

"First  blood,  first  blood,  my  Tommy  boy,"  the  English  cried 

with  joy, 
The  English  cheer  their  hero  while  the  bold  Benicia  boy, 
The  tiger  rose  within  him,  like  lightning  flared  his  eye, 
Saving,  "Mark  aivay,  old  England,  but   Tommie,  mind  your 
*eye." 

24 


The  last  grand  round  of  all,  my  boys,  this  world  has  ne'er  seen 

beat, 
When  the  son  of  Uncle  Sammy  raised  the  Champion  from  his 

feet, 
His  followers  did  smile  while  he  held  him  in  the  air, 
And  from  his  grasp  he  flung  him,  which  caused  the  English 

men  to  stare. 

Come,  all  you  sporting  Americans,  wherever  you  have  strayecl, 
Look  on  this  glorious  eagle  and  never  be  afraid; 
May  our  Union  last  forever  and  our  Flag  the  world  defy, 
So  whenever  you  boast  of  fighting,  Johnnie  Bull,  mind  your  eye. 

/ 


YOUNG  MUNROE. 

Come  all  you  jolly  shanty  boys,  wherever  you  may  be, 
I  hope  you'll  pay  attention  and  listen  unto  me, 
Concerning  a  young  shanty  boy  so  manfully  and  brave, 
It  was  on  a  jam  at  Garray's  rocks  where  he  met  with  a  watery 
grave. 

It  was  on  a  Sunday  morning  as  you  will  quickly  hear, 

Our  logs  were  piling  mountain  high,  we  could  not  keep  them 

clear,  . 
When  the  boss  he  cries,  ''Turn  out,  me  boys,  with  hearts  devoid 

of  fear, 
To  break  the  jam  on  Garry's  rocks  and  for  Eagantown  we'll 

steer. ' ' 

Some  of  them  were  willing,  while  others  they  hung  back, 
To  work  upon  a  Sunday  they  did  not  think  was  right, 
Until  six  of  our  young  Canadians  they  volunteered  to  go, 
And  break  the  jam  on  Garry's  rocks  with  their  foreman,  young 
Munroe. 

They  had  not  rolled  off  many  logs  when  the  boss  to  them  did  say, 
"I  would  have  you  to  be  on  your  guard,  for  this  jam  will  soon 

give  way.  "* 
Those  words  were   scarcely   spoken   when  the   jam   did  break 

and  go, 
And  carried  away  those  six  young  men  with  their  foreman, 

young  Munroe.  •  ' 

When  the  rest  of  those  young  shanty  boys  they  came,  the  news 

to  hear, 
In  search  of  their  dead  bodies  for  the  river  they  did  steer, 
When  one  of  their  lifeless  bodies  found  to  their  sad  grief  and 

woe, 

25 


All  cut  and  mangled  on  the  rocks  was  the  form  of  young 
Munroe. 

They  took  him  from  his  watery  grave,  combed  down  his  coal- 
black  hair, 

There  was  one  fair  form  among  them  whose  cries  did  rend  the 
air ; 

There  was  one  fair  form  among  them,  a  girl  from  Saginaw  town, 

Her  tears  and  cries  would  rend  the  skies  for  her  lover  that 
was  drowned. 

Miss  Clara  was  a  nohle  girl,  likewise  a  raftsman's  friend, 
Her  mother  was  a  widow  living  by  the  river's  bend, 
The  wages  of  her  own  true  love  the  boss  to  her  did  pay, 
And  a  liberal  subscription  she  received  from  the  shanty  boys 
next  day. 

They  took  and  buried  him  decently,  being  on  the  tenth  of  May, 
And  the  rest  of  you  young  shanty  boys,  it's  for  your  comrade 

pray ! 
It  is  engraved  on  a  little  hemlock  tree,  close  by  his  head  it  does 

grow, 
The  day  and  date  of  the  drowning  of  this  hero,  young  Munroe. 

Miss  Clara  did  not  survive  long  to  her  sad  grief  and  woe; 
It  was  less  than  two  weeks  after  she,  too.  was  called  to  go, 
It  was  less  than  two  keeks  after  she,  too,  was  called  to  go, 
And  her  last  request  was  granted  her,   to  be  laid  by  young 
Munroe. 

Now,  any  of  you  shanty  boys  that  would  like  to  go  and  see, 
On  a  little  mound  by  the  river  side  there  growTs  a  hemlock  tree; 
The  shanty  boy  cuts  the  woods  all  round,  two  lovers  here  lie  low, 
Here  lies  Miss  Clara  Dennison  and  her  lover,  young  Munroe. 


JERRY,  GO  OIL  THE  CAR. 

Come,  all  you  railroad  section  hands,  I  hope  you  will  draw  near, 
And  likewise  pay  attention  to  these  few  lines  you'll  hear, 
Concerning  one  Larrj^  Sullivan,  alas,  he  is  no  more, 
He  sailed  some  forty  years  ago  from  the  green  old  Irish  shore. 

For  four  and  thirty  weary  years  he  worked  upon  the  track, 
And  the  truth  to  say  from  the  very  first  day  he  never  had  a 

wreck, 
For  he  made  it  a  point  to  keep  up  the  lower  joints  with  the 

force  of  the  tamping  bar; 
Joint  ahead  and  center  back  and  Jerry  go  oil  the  car. 

26 


To  see  old  Larry  in  the  winter  time  when  the  hills  were  clad 

with  snow, 
It  was  his  "pride  on  his  handcar  to  ride  as  over  the  section 

he'd  go, 
With  his  big*  soldier  coat  buttoned  up  to  his  throat,  sure  he 

looked  like  an  Emperor, 
And  while  the  boys  were  shimming  up   the   ties,   sure   Jerry 

would  be  oiling  the  car. 

When  Sunday  morning  came  around  to  the  section  hands  he'd 

say, 
"I  suppose  you  all  know  that  my  wife  is  going  to  Mass  today, 
And  I  Avant  every  man  for  to  pump  all  he  can,  for  the  distance 

it  is  very  far, 
And  I'd  like  to  get  in  ahead  of  number  ten,  so  Jerry  go  oil 

the  car." 

"And  now  when  my  friends  are  gathered  around,  there  is  one 

request  I  crave, 
When  I  am  dead  and  gone  to  my  rest,  place  the  handcar  on 

my  grav 
Let  the  spike  mawl  rest  upon  my  breast  with  the  gauge  and 

the  old  clawbar, 
And  while  the  boys  are  lowering  me  down,  lare  Jerry  to  be 

oiling  the  car." 

"Give  my  regards  to  the  roadmaster, "  poor  Larry  he  did  cry, 
"And  rise  me  up  so  I  may  see  the  handcar  before  I  die." 
He  was  so  wake  lie  could  hardly  spake,  in  a  moment  he  was  dead ; 
"Joint  ahead  and  center  back,"  were  the  very  last  words  he 
said. 

Remarks  by  Mrs.  Sullivan. 
God  bless  you,  Larry  Sullivan,  to  me  you  was  kind  and  good, 
For  me  you'd  make  the  section  hands  go  out  and  cut  the  wood, 
To  the  well  also  for  water  they  would  go,  and  chop  the  kin- 
dling fine. 
And  if  any  of  them  would  growl,  upon  my  soul,  he'd  dam  soon 
get  his  time. 

And  now  that  he  is  dead  I  want  it  to  be  said  that  the  cars  they 

never  got  a  jar; 
Joint  ahead  and  center  back  and  Jerry  go  oil  the  car. 


THE  OLD  ELM]  TREE. 

I  am  sitting  there,  I'm  dreaming  now, 
Beneath  the  wide  and  spreading  boughs, 

27 


And  the  golden  willows  are  bending  low 

On  the  green  mossy  banks  where  the  violets  grow; 

And  the  wild  birds  are  singing  the  same  sweet  lays 

That  charms  me  in  dreams  of  the  dear  old  days, 

When  Laura,  my  beautiful,  sat  by  me, 

On  the  moss  covered  seat  'neath  the  old  elm  tree. 

It  was  there  with  the  bright  blue  sky  above, 

I  told  her  the  tale  of  my  heart's  true  love, 

And  it  was  there  ere  the  blossoms  of  summer  died, 

She  gave  me  her  promise  to  be  my  bride. 

Little  I  thought  ere  I  would  return  from  the  dark  blue  sea, 

They  would  make  her  a  grave  'neath  the  old  elm  tree. 

Oh,  cruel  and  false  were  the  tales  they  told, 

How  my  heart  was  untrue  to  my  own  love  cold, 

How  my  present  heart  had  another  dear, 

Forgetting  the  promise  I  made  her  here; 

Until  her  cheeks  grew  pale  with  her  heart-broken  pain, 

And  those  beautiful  lips  never  smiled  again, 

But  she  silently  wept  where  none  could  see, 

She  wept  for  the  past  'neath  the  old  elm  tree. 

She  died  and  they  parted  her  sunny  hair, 

On  her  marble  brow  death  left  so  fair, 

And  they  made  har  a  grave  where  the  fair  young  flowers 

Could  bloom  by  her  side  in  the  long  summer  hours; 

Oh,  Laura,  dear  Laura,  my  heart's  best  love, 

We  will  meet  in  the  angels'  home  above; 

Earth  holds  no  treasure  so  dear  to  me 

As  the  moss  covered  grave  'neath  the  old  elm  tree. 


THE  U.  S.  A. 

"Tell  me,  daddy,  tell  me,  why  the  men  in  yonder  crowd, 

Can  you  tell  me  why  they  are  marching,  why  each  due  looks  so 

proud  ? ' ' 
"Listen,  lad,"  he  answered,  "  'tis  the  tune  the  brass  band  plays, 
'Tis  the  song  'My  Country   'Tis  of  Thee,'  and  you  know  well 

what  it  says. 

"Heroes  bold  in  battle  both  our  grandpas  fought  and  fell, 
'Mid  the  cannon's  roar  and  rattle  so  freedom  here  might  dwell; 
Washington  and  Jackson,  Lincoln,  Grant  and  Lee, 
They're  the  men  that  made  us  what  we  are  on  the  land  and  on 
the  sea. 

"No  matter  where  you  ramble,  no  matter  where  you  roam, 

2$ 


You  never  have  to  ponder  on  a  place  to  call  your  home; 
When  they  ask  you,  lad,  where  were  you  born,  turn  proudly 

'round  and  say 
That  vour  home  is  the  land  of  Uncle  Sam,  the  U.  S.  A." 


PERSIAN'S  CREW. 

Sad  and  dismal  is  the  story  that  I  will  tell  to  you, 
About  the  schooner  Persia,  her  officers  and  crew; 
They  sank  beneath  the  waters  deep  in  life  to  rise  no  more, 
Where  wind  and  desolation  sweeps  Lake  Huron's  rock  bound 
shore. 

They  left  Chicago  on  their  lee,  their  songs  they  did  resound, 

Their  hearts  were  filled  with  joy  and  glee,  for  they  were  home- 
ward bound; 

They  little  thought  the  sword  of  death  would  meet  them  on 
their  way. 

And  they  so  full  of  joy  and  life  would  in  Lake  Huron  lay. 

In  mystery  o'er  their  fate  was  sealed,  they  did  collide,  some  say, 
And  that  is  all  that  will  be  revealed  until  the  judgment  day; 
Put  when  the  angels  take  their  stand  to  sweep  these  waters  blue. 
They  will  summon  forth  at  Heaven's  command  the  Persian's 
luckless  crew. 

Xo  mother's  hand  was  there  to  soothe  the  brow's  distracted  pain, 

gentle  wife  for  to  carress  those  cold  lips  once  again ; 
No  sister  nor  a  lover  dear  or  little  ones  to  moan, 
But  in  the  deep  alone  they  sleep,  far  from  their  friends  and 
home.  * 

Her  captain,  he  is  no  more,  he  lost  his  precious  life, 

He  sank  dowui  among  Lake  Huron's  waves,  free  from  all  mortal 

strife ; 
A  barren  coast  now  hides  from  view  his  manly,  lifeless  form, 
And  still  in  death  is  the  heart  so  true  that  weathered  many  a 

storm. 

There  was  Daniel  Sullivan,  her  mate,  with  a  heart  as  true  and 

brave, 
As  ever  was  compelled  by  fate  to  fill  a  sailor 's  grave ; 
Alas,  he  lost  his  noble  life,  poor  Daniel  is  no  more, 
He  met  a  sad,  untimely  end  upon  Lake  Huron's  shore. 

Oh,  Daniel,  Dan,  your  many  friends  mourn  the  fate  that  lias 

on  you  frowned, 
They  look  in  vain  for  your  return  back  to  Oswego  town; 

29 


They  miss  the  love  glance  of  your  eye,  your  hand  they'll  clasp 

no  more, 
For  still  in  death  you  now  do  lie  upon  Lake  Huron's  shore. 

Her  sailors'  names  I  did  not  know,  excepting  one  or  two, 
Down  in  the  deep  they  all  did  go,  they  were  a  luckless  crew; 
Not  one  escaped  to  land  to  clear  the  mystery  o'er, 
Or  to  lie  adrift  by  Heaven's  command  in  lifeless  form  ashore. 

Now  around  Presque  Isle  the  sea  birds  scream  their  mournful 

notes  along, 
In  chanting  to  the  Sad  requiem,  the  mournful  funeral  song; 
They  skim  along  the  waters  blue  and  then  aloft  they  soar, 
O'er  the  bodies  of  the  Persian's  crew  that  lie  along  the  shore. 


JIM  FISK. 

If  you  will  listen  awhile  I  will  sing  you  a  song 

About  this  glorious  land  of  the  free, 
And  the  difference  I'll  show  between  the  rich  and  the  poor, 

In  a  trial  by  jury,  you  see. 
If  you  have  plenty  of  money  you  can  hold  up  your  head, 

And  walk  out  from  your  own  prison  door, 
But  they'll  hang  you  up  high  if  you've  no  friends  or  gold, 

Let  the  rich  go,  but  hang  up  the  poor. 

In  trial  by  jury  we  have  nowadays, 

The  rich  men  get  off  swift  and  sure, 
While  they've  thousands  to  pay  both  the  jury  and  judge, 

'You  can  bet  they'll  go  back  on  the  poor. 

Let  me  speak  of  a  man  who  is  now  in  his  grave, 

A  better  man  never  was  born; 
-Jim  Fisk  he  was  called  and  his  money  he  gave     - 

To  the  outcast,  the  poor  and  forlorn. 
We  all  know  he  loved  both  women  and  wine, 

But  his  heart  it  was  right,  I  am  sure. 
Though  he  lived  like  a  prince  in  his  palace  so  fine, 

He  never  went  back  on  the  poor. 

If  a  man  was  in  trouble  he  would  help  him  along, 

To  drive  the  grim  wolf  from  the  door, 
He  strove  to  do  right,  though  he  may  have  done  wrong, 

But  he  never  went  back  on  the  poor. 

Jim  Fisk  was  a  man  with  his  heart  in  his  hand, 

No  matter  what  people  might  say. 
And  he  did  all  his  deeds,  both  the  good  and  the  bad, 

30- 


Iii  tlie  broad,  open  light  of  the  clay. 

With  his  £rarid  six-in-hand  on  the  beajm  at  Long  Branch, 

Pie  cut  a  big  dash,  to  be  sure, 
But  C  's  great  lire  showed  the  world  that   Jim  Fisl< 

"With  his  wealth  still  remembered  the  poor. 

When  a  telegram  came  that  the  homeless  that  night 

Were  starving-  to  death  slow  but  sure, 
The  Lightning  Express,  manned  by  ftoble  Jim  Fisk, 

Flew  to  feed  all  her  hungry  and  poor. 

Now  what  do  you  think  of  the  trial  of  Stokes, 

Who  murdered  the  friend  of  the  poor? 
When  such  men  get  free  is  there  any  one  safe. 

If  they  step  outside  of  their  own  door? 
Is  there  a  law  for  the  rich  and  one  for  the  poor  ? 

It  seems  so,  at  least  so  they  say, 
If  they  hang  up  the  poor,  why  hadn't  the  rich 

Ought  to  swing  up  the  very  same  way? 

Don't  show  any  favor  to  friend  or  to  foe, 
The  beggar  or  prince  at  your  door, 

u  always  do  right  you  will  get  your  reward, 
If  you  never  go  back  on  the  poor. 


BEN  BOLT. 

Oh,  don't  you  remember  Sweet  Alice,  Ben  Bolt, 

Sweet  Alice  whose  hair  was  so  brown, 
Who  wept  with  delight  when  you  gave  her  a  smile, 

And  trembled  with  fear  at  your  frown  ? 
In  the  old  church-yard  in  the  valley,  Ben  Bolt, 

In  a  corner  obscure  and  alone, 
They  have  fitted  a  slab  of  the  granite  so  gray, 

And  sweet  Alice  lies  under  the  stone; 
They  have-  fitted  a  slab  of  the  granite  so  gray, 

And  sweet  Alice  lies  under  the  stone. 

Under  the  hickory  tree,  Ben  Bolt, 

Which  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
Together  we've  lain  in  the  noon-day  shade, 

And  listened  to  Appleton's  mill. 
The  mill-wheel  has  fallen  to  pieces,  Ben' Bolt, 

The  rafters  have  tumbled  in, 
And  a  quiet  that  crawls  'round  the  walls  as  you  gaze, 

Has  followed  the  olden  din ; 

31 


And  a  quiet  that  crawls  'round  the  walls  as  yon  gaze, 
Has  followed  life  olden  din. 

And  don't  yon  remember  the,  school,  Ben  Bolt, 

With  the  master  so  kind  and  so  true, 
And  the  shaded  nook  by  the  running  brook, 

Where  the  fairest  wild  flowers  grew? 
Grass  grows  on  the  master's  grave,  Ben  Bolt, 

The  spring  of  the  brook  is  dry, 
And  of  all  the  boys  that  wrere  school-mates  then, 

There  are  only  yon  and  I; 
And  of  all  the  boys  that  were  school-mates  then, 

There  are  only  you  and  I. 

There  is  change  in  the  things  I  loved,  Ben  Bolt, 

They  have  changed  from  the  old  to  the  new; 
But  I  feel  in  the  depths  of  my  spirit  the  truth, 

There  never  was  a  change  in  you. 
Twelve  months  twenty  times  have  past,  Ben  Bolt, 

Since  first  we  were  friends,  yet  I  hail 
Thy  presence  a  blessing,  thy  friendship  a  truth, 

Ben  Bolt  of  the  salt  sea  gale ; 
Thy  presence  a  blessing,  thy  friendship  a  truth, 

Ben  Bolt  of  the  salt  sea  gale. 


TO  MORRlOW. 

I  started  on  a  journey  just  about  a  wreek  ago, 
To  the  little  town  of  Morrow7,  in  the  State  of  Ohio; 
I  never  was  a  traveler  and  really  did  not  know, 
That  Morrow  had  been  ridiculed  a  century  or  so; 
I  went  down  to  the  depot  for  my  ticket  and  applied 
For  tips  regarding  Morrow,,  not  expecting  to  be  guj^ed. 
Said  I,  "My  friend,  I  want  to  go  to  Morrow  and  return 
Not  later  than  tomorrow,  for  I  haven't  time  to  burn." 

Said  he  to  me,  "Now,  let  me  see  if  I  have  heard  you  right, 
You  want  to  go  to  Morrow  and  come  back  to-morrow  night; 
To  go  from  here  to  Morrow  and  return  is  quite  a  way, 
You  should  have  gone  to  Morrow  yesterday  and  back  today; 
For  if  you  started  yesterday  to  Morrow,  don't  you  see, 
You  could  have  gone  to  Morrow  and  returned  to-day  at  three. 
The  train  that  started  yesterday,  now  understand  me  right, 
Today  gets  to  Morrow  and  returns  to-morrow  night." 

Said  I,  "My  friend,  it  seems  to  me  you're  talking  through  your 
hat, 

32 


1  a  town  named  Morrow  on  your  fine,  now  tell  me  that?" 
''There  is,"  says  he,  "and  take  from  me  a  quiet  little»tip, 

■o  from  here  to  Morrow  is  a  fourteen-hour  trip; 
The  train  that  goes  to  Morrow  leaves  today  eight  thirty-five, 
Half  after  ten  to-morrow  is  the  time  it  should  arrive; 
Now  if  from  here  to  Morrow  is  a  fourteen-hour  jump, 

in  you  go  to-day  to  Morrow  and  get  back  to-day,  you  chump  ?" 

Says  I,  "I  want  to  go  to  Morrow,  can  I  go  today, 
And  get  to  Morrow  by  to-night  if  there  is  no  delay?" 

11,  well,"  says  he,  "explain  to  me,  and  I've  no  more  to  say, 
How  can  you  go  anywhere  to-morrow  and  get  back  today? 
if  to-day  you  start  to  Morrow,  it's  a  cinch  you'll  land 
morrow  into  Morrow,  not  to-day,  you  understand; 
•r  the  train  to-day  to  Morrow,  if  the  schedule  is  right, 
It  will  get  you  into  Morrow  by  about  to-morrow  night." 

Says  I,  "I  guess  you  know  it  all,  but  kindly  let  me  say, 
How  can  I  go  to  Morrow  if  I  leave  the  town  today?" 
says,  "Yon  cannot  go  to  Morrow  any  more  to-day, 
For  the  train  that  goes  to  Morrow  is  a  mile  upon  its  way." 
1  was  so  disappointed,  I  was  mad  enough  to  swear, 
The  train  had  gone  to  Morrow  and  left  me  standing  there; 
The  man  was  right  in  telling  me  I  was  a  howling  jay, 
I  didn't  go  to  Morrow,  so  I  guess  I'll  go  today. 


THE  LADY  LEROY. 

I   went  a-walking  one  morning  in  May, 
to  view  those  fine  meadows,  all  nature  seemed  gay, 
I  espied  a  young  couple  on  old  Erin's  green  shore, 
A-viewing  the  oc^an  where  the  wild  billows  roar. 

'•Sally,  dear  Sally,  you're  the  girl  I  adore, 
And  to  be  parted  from  you  it  grieves  my  heart  sore, 
But  your  parents  are  rich,  love,  and  they're  angry  at  me, 
And  were  I  to  stay  with  you  our  ruin  it- would  be." 

When  she  heard  him  say  this  she  dressed  herself  in  men's  clothes 

away  to  her  father  she  instantly  goes; 
She  purchased  a  vessel,  paid  him  down  his  demand, 
But  little  he  knew  it  was  from  his  own  daughter's  hand. 

Then  to  her  true  lover  she  went  right  away, 

bade  him  get  ready  without  further  delay, 
So  they  hoisted  their  topsails  and  colors  let  fly, 
And  she  sailed  o'er  the  ocean,  the  Lady  Leroy. 

33 


When  her  old  father  heard  this,  in  grief  and  despair, 
Straightway  to  his  Captain  lie  soon  did  repair, 
Saying,  ''.Pursue  and  overtake  them  and  his  life  destroy, 
For  he  ne'er  will  enjoy  the  fair  Lady  Leroy." 

Then  proud  of  his  message  this  bold   Captain   goes, 
As  if  for  to  conquer  some  bold,  daring  foes ; 
He  spies  a  large  vessel,  her  colors  let  fly, 
He  hails  her  and  finds  she's  the  Lady  Leroy. 

"Now  turn  back  to  Erin,  to  Erin's  iive<m  shore, 
Or  a  broadside  of  grapeshot  into  you  I'll  pour." 
But  Sally's  true  lover  made  him  this  reply, 
"We'll  never  surrender,  we'll  conquer  or  die!" 

Then  broadside  like  hail  on  each  other  did  pour. 
Until  many  brave  seamen  were  wounded  full  sore, 
But  Sally's  true  lover  gained  the  victory, 
For,  like  all  true  lovers,  they  will  always  fee  fre 

"Now  turn  back  to  Erin  and. there  let  them  know, 
That  we  ne'er  will  be  conquered  by  friend  or  by  foe; 
Here's  a  health  to  young  Sally,  she's  the  Lady  Leroy, 
She's  the  source  of  my  comfort  and  my  only  joy." 


NAME  THE  BOY  DENNIS  OR  NO  NAME  AT  ALL. 

I'm  bothered,  yes,  I'm  bothered,  completely  perplexed, 
I'm  the  father  of  a  little  boy,  I'm  not  happy  but  I'm  vexed; 
I  have  ninetyuiine  relations  and  they  nearly  drive  me  wild, 
Both  one  and  all,  both  great  and  small,  they  want  to  name  the 
child. 

Chorus — ■  • 

My  wife  she  wants  him  Michael,  her  sister  wants  him  Mai, 
My  brother  wants  him  Charlie,  while  her  auntie  wants  him  Pat; 
"Whilst  her  brother  wants  him   Shamus,   and  my  father  wants 

to  call  him  Paul,  ' 

I  do  declare  I  don't  know  what  I'll  name  the  boy  at  all. 

It  was  only  here  this  morning  my  brother  came  from  Troy, 
He  swore  by  this,  he  swore  by  that,  that  he  would  name  the  boy, 
Says  me  wife's  brother  Darby  he'd  be  hanged  if  that  would  do, 
And  they  jumped  together  on  the  floor  and  had  a  bold  set-to 

Next  Sunday  is  the  christening  day  and  I'll  tell  you,  by  V. 
I'll  have  none  of  their    conniving,  I'm  bound  to  have  my  sa: 


til  him  tliis  or  call  him  that,  I  don't  care  a  snap 
•  their  call, 
I'm  bound  to  call  him  Dennis,  or  he'll  have  no  name  at  all. 


Y()i  LLY  MUNROE; 

ou  will  attend, 
listen  to  thes  lines  that  I  have  lately  penned, 

I'll  tell  you  of  the  hardships  that  I  did  undergo,  - 
as  all  for  a  lied  Sally  Munroe. 

name  it  is  Jim  Dixon,  I'm  a  blacksmith  by  trade, 
'twas  in  the  town  of  Erie  where  I  was  born  and  raised; 
From  that  town  to  Belfast  to  work  I  did  go, 

in  the  country  from  Sally  Munroe. 

I  promised  that  fair  lady  a  letter  I  would  s< 

it  to  a  comrade  I.  took  to  be  my  friend. 
But  instead  of  being  a  friend  of  mine,  he  proved  to  be  my  foe, 
For  he  ave  that  letter  to  young  Sally  Munroe. 

»ld  her  old  mother  for  to  beware  of  me, . 
I  had  a  wife  in  a  strange  country: 
The  ter  old  m  If  what  you  say  be  so, 

til  enjoy  my  young  Sally  Munroe." 

s  and  better  and  never  did  I  hear 
the  lassie  that  I  once  loved  so  dear, 
Till  ■  \\t  summer  morning  down  by  a  shady  row, 

It  wa  I  by  chance  did  me  Sally  Munroe. 

■,  if  you'll  gang  along  wi'  me,.. 
In  *pite  of  our  auld  parents  it's  married  we  will  be." 
[  have  no  objections  along  with  you  to  go, 
I  know  you  will  prove  loyal  to  your  Sally  Munroe." 

It  was  in  a  coach  from  Norwich  to  Belfast  we  did  go, 

And  there  I  was  married  to  young  Sally  Mum 

There  was  a  ship  at  AVilliams'  Point  all  readj-  to  set  sail, 

With  five  hundred  passengers,  their  passage  all  were  paid, 

I  paid  down  our  for  Quebec  also. 

And  there  I  did  embark  with  Sally  Munroe. 

sailed  down  the  river  with  a  sweet  and  pleasant  gale, 
And  left  our  old  parents  oehind  to  weep  and  wail, 
"While  many  were  the  salt  tears  that  down  their  cheeks  did  flow, 
Oh,  I  was  quite  happy  with  young  Sally  Munroe. 

35 


About  four  in  the  morning  came  on  a  dreadful  blow, 
Our  ship  she  struck  a  rock  and  to  the  bottom  she  did  !go, 
With  five  hundred  passengers  that  were  all  down  below, 
And  among  that  great  number  I  lost  Sally  Munrpe. 

It  was  from  her  old  parents  *that  I  stole  her  away, 
And  that  will  shock  my  conscience  for  many  a-  long  day 
It  was  not  for  to  injure  her  that  ever  I  did  so, 
And  I'll  mourn  all  my  days  for  young  Sally  Munroe. 


JOHN  MITCHELL. 

I  am  a  true  bred  Irishman,  John  Mitchell  is  my  name, 

"When  first  to  join  my  country's  cause  from  Tierney  town  I 

came; 
I  struggled  vhard  both  night  and  day  to  free  my  native  land, 
For  which  I  was  transported,  as  you  may  understand. 

When  first  I  joined  my  countrymen  it  was  in  '42, 
And  then  what  followed  after  I'll  quickly  tell  to  you; 
I  raised  the  Standard  of  Repeal  and  gloried  in  the  deed, 
And  I  swore  that  I  would  never  rast  until  Ireland  was  freed. 

While  here  in  prison  close  confined,  waiting  my  trial  day, 
My  darling  wife  came  to  me  and.  those  words  to  me  did  say, 
''Cheer  up,  cheer  up,  my  dearest  John,  and  daunted  do  not  be, 
For  it's  better  to  die  for  Erin's  rights  than  to  live  in  slavery." 

When  I  received  my  sentence  'twas  on  a  foreign  ground, 
Where  hundreds  of  my  countiymen  assembled  all  around; 
My  liberty  was  offered  me  if  I  would  forsake  their  cause, 
But  I'd  rather  die  ten  thousand  deaths  than  forsake  my  Irish 
boys. 

Farewell,  my  true  born  Irishmen,  farewell,  my  country  too, 
But  to  leave  my  wife  and  babes  behind  it's  almost  more  than 

I  can  do; 
There  is  one  request  I  ask  of  you  when  your  liberty  you  gain. 
Remember  John  Mitchell  far  away,  though  a  convict  bound  in 

chains. 


THE  CUMBERLAND'S  CREW, 

Come,  shipmates,  all  gather  arid  list  to  my  ditty, 

Of  a  terrible  battle  that  happened  of  late, 
And  let  each  Union  tar  shed  a  tear  of  pity 

36 


When  he  hears  of  our  once  noble  Cumberland's  fate; 
Oh,  the  eighth  day  of  March  told  a  terrible  story, 

And  many  brave  heroes  to  the  world  bid  adieu, 
But  the  Star  Spangled  Banner  was  mantled  in  glory, 

By  the  heroic  deeds  of  the  Cumberland's  crew. 

On  the  eighth  day  of  March,  about  ten  in  the  morning, 

When  the  day  it  was  cloudless  and  bright  shone  the  sun, 
Tiie-  drums  on  the  Cumberland  sounded  a  warning, 

That  told  every  seaman  to  stand  by  his  gun ; 
For  an  iron  clad  frigate  down  on  us  was  beari 

And  high  at  her  top  she  the  Rebel  flag  flew, 
With  trie  pennant  of  treason  so  proudly  a-f lying, 

Determined  to  capture  our  Cumberland's  crew. 

Then  up  spoke  our  Captain  with  stern  resolution, 

Saying,  "Boys,  of  this  monster  let  us  not  be  dismayed, 
We  are  sworn  to  sustain  our  beloved  Constitution,- 

And  to  die  for  our  country  we  are  not  afraid; 
We  will  fight  for  the  Union,  our  cause  it  is  glorious, 

To  the  Stars  and  the  Stripes  we  will  ever  prove  true, 
/ill  die  at  our  guns  or  we'll  conquer  victorious," 

He  was  answered  by  cheers  from  the  Cumberland's  crew. 

'  ports  we  threw  open  and  guns  we  made  thunder, 

A  broadside  like  hail  on  those  rebels  did  pour, 
The  sailors,  amazed,  all  stood  struck  with  great  wonder, 

When  our  shots  struck  her  side  and  glanced  harmlessly  o'er; 
But  the  pride  of  our  Navy  would  never  surrender," 

Though  the  dead  and  the  dying  our  decks  they  did  strew, 
And  the  Star  Spangled  Banner  above  us  was  flying, 

It  was  nailed  to  the  mast  by  the  Cumberland's  crew. 

When  those  traitors  found  cannons  could  never  avail  them, 

A-f ighting  those  heroes  with  God  on  their  side, 
The  flag  of  secession  had  no  power  to  quail  them, 

Though  the  blood  from  our  scuppers  did  crimson  the  tide; 
She  struck  us  amidship,  our  planks  they  did  sever, 

With  her  sharp  iron  prow  pierced  our  noble  ship  through. 
And  as  we  were  sinking  in  the  dark  rolling  waters, 

"Let  us  die  at  our  guns,"  says  the  Cumberland's  crew. 

Slowly  they  sank  in  the  dark  rolling  water, 

The  light  of  this  world  they  will  never"  see  more, 
Xong  will  they  be  wept  by  Columbia's  sons  and  daughters, 

Let  their  deaths  be  avenged  on  Virginia's  bright  shore; 
And  if  any  of  those  heroes  in  battle  ascended, 

God  bless  their  old  banner,  the  Red,  White  and  Blue, 
For  beneath  its  broad  folds  we'll  make  tyrants  to  tremble, 

Or  die  at  our  guns  like  the  Cumberland's  erew. 

2T 


DORAN'S  ASS. 

One  Paddy  Doyle  lived  in  KiHarney, 

Courted  a  girl  named  Biddie  Toole, 
Her  tongue  was  tipped  with  a  bit  of  the  Blarney, 

The  same  to  Pat  was  the  Golden  Rule; 
Both  njght  and  day  she  was  hi.s  comrade. 

And  to  himself  I've  heard  him  say, 
"What  need  I  care,  for  she's  me  darling. 

And  I  know  she'll  meet  me  on  the  way." 

Chorus — 

"Whack  fol  do  lol  de  lural  Mo, 
Whack  fol  de  lol  cle  lural  la. 
Whack  fol  de  lol  de  lural  ido, 
I  know  shell  meet  me  on  the  way. 

One  heavenly  night  in  last  November, 

Paddy  went  to  see  his  love, 
What  night  it  was  I  don't  remember, 

But  the  moon  shone  brightly  from  above; 
It's  true  the  boy  had  been  drinking  liquor, 

His  spirits  they  were  light  and  gay, 
Saying,  "What's  the  use  of  walking  faster, 

For  I  know  she'll  meet  me  on  the  way." 

He  lit  his  pipe,  commenced  to  smoking. 

As  merrily  o'er  the  road  did  jog, 
But   fatigue   and  whiskey  overcame  him, 

So  Paddy  lay  down  upon  the  sod; 
He  was  not  long  without  a  comrade, 

And  a  one  that  too-kicked  up  the  hay, 
For  the  big  jackass  he  smelt  out  Paddy, 

And  lay  down  beside  him  on  the  way. 

As  Paddy  lay  in  peaceful  slumber, 

Thinking  of  his  Biddie  dear, 
He  had  sweet  dreams  without  number. 

To  be  fulfilled  in  the  coming  year. 
He  threw  his  arms  out  on  the  grass, 

His  spirits  they  were  light  and  gay, 
But  instead  of  Biddie  he  grabbed  the  as 

And  ba.wled  out,  "I've  met  her  on  the  way." 

He  hugged  and  smugged  this  woolly  divil, 
While  to  himself  did  curse  and  swear, 

Saying,  "You've  come  at  last,  me  Biddie  darling, 
But,  by  me  sowl,  you're  like  a  bear." 

He  laid  his  hand  on  the  donkey's  nose, 
38 


The  donkey  he  began  to  bray, 
Then  Paddy  sung  out,   "Bloody  murther ! 
e  met  the  Divil  on  the  way.'' 

Paddy,  ran  home  at  railroad  speed, 

railroad  speed  as  fast,  I'm  sure. 
He  never  halted  leg  or  feet 

Until  he  arrived  at  Biddie 's  door: 
It  being  early  in  the  morning, 

Down  on  his  knees  Pat  fell  to  pray, 
Saying,  "Rise  up,  rise  up.  Biddie  darling, 
met  the  Divil  on  the  way." 

He  told  his  story  mighty  civil. 

While  she  prepared  the  whiskey  glass, 
ARRAPI.  Pat!"'  says  she,  "It  was  no  Divil, 

It  was  nothing  at  all  but  Doran's  ass." 
I  am  sure  it  was  my  Biddie  darling, 

they  were  married  right  away, 
But  he  never  got  "the  ould  straw  hat, 

That  the  donkey  ate  up  on  the  way. 


BOLD  DANIEL. 

It  was  on  the  fourteenth  day  of  January, 

From  England  we  set  sail, 
We  were  bound  down  to  Laguire, 

With'  a  sweet  and  pleasant  gale ; 
The  Roving  Lizzie  we  are  called, 

Bold  Daniel  is  my  name, 
And  we  sailed  away  from  Laguire, 

Just  out  of  the  Spanish  Main. 

And  when  we  reached  Laguire, 

Our  orders  did  read  so, 
"When  you  discharge  your  cargo, 

It's  sail  for  Callao." 
Our  Captain  eatted  all  hands  right  aft, 

:cl  unto  us  did  say, 
"Here  is  money  for  you  today,  my  lads, 

For  tomorrow  we'll  sail  away." 

It  was  early  the  next  morning, 
As  daylight  did  draw  nigh, 

The  man  from  at  the  masthead 
A  strange  sail  did  espy; 
39 


"With  a  black  flag  under  her  mizzen  peak, 
Came  bearing  down  that  way: 

"I'll  he  bound  she  is  some  pirai 
Bold  Daniel  he  did  saw. 

In  the  course  of  three  or  four  hours, 

This  pirate  ranged  alongside, 
And  with  a  speaking  trumpet, 

"Where  are  you  from?"  he  cries. 
"The  Boving  Lizzie  we  are  called, 

Bold  Daniel  is  my  name, 
And  we  sailed  away  from  Laguire, 

Just  out  of  the  Spanish  Main." 

"Come,  back  your  topsails  to  your  mast, 

And  heave  your  ship  under  my  lee." 
"Oh,  no!  oil,  no!"  cried  Daniel, 

I'd  rather  sink  at  sea." 
They  hoisted  up  their  bloody  flag, 

Our  hearts  to  terrify. 
With  their  big  guns  to  our  small  arms, 

At  us  they  did  let  fly. 

We  mounted  four  six-pounders 

To  fight  a  hundred  men, 
And  when  the  action  did  begin, 

It  was  just  about  half -past  ten; 
We  mounted  four  six-pounders, 

Our  crew  being  twenty-two; 
In  the  course  of  an  hour  and  a  quarter, 

Those  pirates  we  did  subdue. 

And  nowT  our  prize  we've  taken 

Unto  Columbia's  shore, 
To  that  dear  old  place  in  America, 

They  call  sweet  Baltimore; 
We  '11  drink  success  to  Daniel, 

Likewise  his  gallant  crew. 
That  fought  and  beat  that  Pirate 

W7ith  his  noble  twenty-two. 


TILE  HEIGHTS  OF  ALMA. 

It  was  in  September,  the  eighteenth  day 
In  spite  of  the  salt  sea's  dashing  spray, 
We  landed  safe  on  tke  Crimea, 
Upon  our  route  to  Alma. 
4t 


That  night  we  lay  on  the  cold,  cold  ground, 
Xo  peace  or  comfort  could  be  found. 
And  by  the  rain  were  nearly  drowned, 
„  To  cheer  our  hearts  for  Alma. 

Next  morning  when  we  did  arise, 
Beneath  those  gloomy  Russian  sfc 
Lord  Ragalan,  our  Chieftain  cries, 
"Prepare  to  march  for  Alma." 

And  when  the  heights  they  hove  in  view, 
The  strongest  hearts  they  would  subdue. 
To  see  that  motley  Russian  crew 
Upon  the  heights  of  Alma. 

They  were  so  strongly  fortif; 
With  batteries  on  each  mountain  side, 
Lord  Ragalan  viewed  their  works  and  cried, 
"We'll  have  tough  work  in  Alma." 

The  Scotch  Greys  were  the  first  that  came, 
And  turned  their  fire  in  like  rain, 
But  many  a  Highland  lass  will  mauirn, 
For  that  day's  work  at  Alma. 

The  Twenty-second  Fusileers, 
They  gained  the  heights  and  gave  three  cheers, 
With  joy  each  Briton's  heart  did  cheer, 
Hibernia's  sons  at  Alma. 

Back  to  Sebastapool  the  Rnssians  fled, 
They  left  their  dying  and  their  dead, 
The  rivers  that  day  did  run  fed 

With  the  blood  that  flowed  at  Alma. 


ORANGE  AND  GREEN. 

The  night  was  falling  dreary  in  merry  Bandoh  Town, 
When  in  his  cottage  "weary  an  Orangeman  lay  down ; 
The  summer  sun  in  splendor  had  set  upon  the  vale, 
And  shouts  of  "No  surrender!"  arose  upon  the  gale. 

Beside  the  waters  laving  the  feet  of  aged  trees, 
The  Orange  banner  waving  flew  boldly  in  the  breeze; 
In  mighty  chorus  greeting  a  thousand  voices  join, 
And  fife  and  drums  are  beating  the  battle  of  the  Boyne. 

Ha !    Towrard  his  cottage  hieing,  what  form  is  speeding  now, 

41 


From  yonder  thicket  flying  with  blood  upon  his  brow  ? 
"Hide,  hide  me,  worthy  stranger,  though  green  my  color  be, 
And  in  the  day  of  danger  may  Heaven  remember  tliee. 

"In  yonder  vale  contending  alone  against  that  crew, 

My  life  and  limbs  defending,  an  Orangeman  T  slew: 

Hark!    Hear  that  fearful  warning,  there  is  death  in  every  tone, 

Oh,  save  my  life  till  morning,  and  Heaven  prolong  your  own." 

The  Orange  heart  was  melted  in  pity  to  the  Gn 

He  heard  the  tale  and  felt  it  in  his  very  sour  within; 

rt Bread  not  that  angry  warning,  though  death  be  in  its  tone, 

I'll  save  your  life  till  morning  or  I  will  lose  my  own." 

Now  'round  his  lowly  dwelling  the  angry  torrent  pressed, 
A  hundred  voices  swelling,  the  Orangeman  addressed, 
"Arise,  arise  and  follow  the  chase  along  the  plain, 
In  yonder  stony  hollow  your  only  son  is  slain." 

With  rising  shouts  they  gather,  upon  the  track  amain, 
And  leave  the  childless  father  aghast  with  sudden  pain; 
He  seeks  the  righted  stranger  in  covert  where  he  lay, 
"Arise,"  he  said,  "all  danger  is  gone  and  passed  away." 

"I  had  a  son,  one,  only  one,  loved  as  my  life, 

Thy  hand  has  left  me  lonely  in  that  accursed  strife, 

I  pledged  my  word  to  save  thee  until  the  storm  should  cease, 

I  kept  the  pledge  I  gave  thee,  arise  and  go  in  peace." 

The  stranger  soon  departed  from  that  unhappy  vale, 
The  father,  broken  hearted,  lay  brooding  o'er  the  tale; 
Full  twenty  summers  after  to  silver  turned  his  beard, 
And  yet  the  sound  of  laughter  from  him  was  never  heard. 

Tke  night  was  falling  dreary  in  merry  Wexford  Town, 
When  in  his  cabin  weary  a  peasant  laid  him  down. 
And  many  a  voice  was  singing  along  the  summer  vale, 
And  Wexford  Town  was  ringing  with  cries  of  Granua. 

Beside  the  waters  laving  the  feet  of  aged  trees, 

The  green  flag  gaily  waving  was  spread  against  the  breeze, 

In  mighty  chorus  meeting  loud  voices  filled  the  town, 

And  fife  and  drum  were  "beating  down — Orangeman,  lie  down! 

Hark!    Mid  the  stirring  clangor  that  woke  the  echoes  there, 
Loud  voices  high  in  anger  rise  on  the  evening  air. 
Like  billows  of  the  ocean  he  sees  them  hurry  on, 
And  'mid  the  wild  commotion  an  Orangeman  alone. 

"My  hair,"  he  said,  "is  hoary,  and  feeble  is  my  hand, 
But  I  could  tell  a  story  would  shame  your  cruel  band; 

42 


:ity  years  and  over  have  changed  by  heart  and  brow, 
I  I  am  grown  a  lover  of  peace  and  concord  now. 

"It  was  not  thus  1  greeted  your  brother  of  the  Green, 
When  fainting-  and  defeated  I  freely  took  him  in; 
I  pledged  my  word  to  save  him  fro  mvengeanee  rushing  on, 
I  kept  the  pledge  T  gave  him,  though  he  had  killed  my  son." 

The  aged  peasant  heard  him  and  knew  him  as  he  stood, 
Remembrance  kindly  stirred  him  and  tender  gratitude; 
With  rushing  tears  of  pleasure  he  pierced  the  listening  train, 
"I'm  here  to  pay  the  measure  of  kindness  back  again." 

I  his  bosom  falling:  the  old  man's  tears  came  down, 
p  memory  recalling  the  cot  and  fatal  town; 
"The  hand  that  would  offend  thee,  my  being  first  shall  end, 
I'm  living  to  defend  thee,  my  savior  and  my  friend." 

He  said,  and  turning  slowly  addressed  the  wondering  crowd, 
With  fervent  spirit  burning  he  told  the  tale  aloud; 
Now  pressed  the  warm  beholders;  their  aged  for  to  greet, 
They  raised  him  on  ^heir  shoulders  and  chaired  him-  through 
the  street. 

As  he  had  saved  that  stranger  from  peril  scowling*  dim, 
So  in  his  day  of  danger  did  Heaven  remember  him; 
By  joyous  crowds  attended,  the  worthy  pair  were  seen, 
And  their  flags  that  day  were  blended,   the  Orange  and  the 
Green. 


MRS.  FOGARTY'S  CAKE. 

As  I  sat  by  my  window  last  evening,  the  letter-man  brought 

unto  me. 
A  little   gild-edged   invitation,  saying,   "Gilhooley,   come   over 

to  tea."     " 
Sure  I  knew  that  the  Fogarty's  sent  it,  so  I  went  just  for  old 

friendship  sake. 
And  the  first  thing  they  gave  me  to  tackle  was  a  slice  of  Mrs. 

Fogarty's  cake. 

Chorus — 

There  was  plums  and  prunes  and  cherries, 

And  citrons  and  cinnamon,  too, 
There  was  cloves  and  spices  and  berries, 

And  the  crust  it  was  nailed  on  with  glue ; 
There  was  carroway  seeds  in  abundance, 
43 


Sure  it  would  build  up  a  fine  stomach  ache, 
It  would  kill  a  man  twice  after  eating 
A  piece  of  Mrs.  Fogarty's  cake. 

Miss  Mulligan  wanted  to  taste  it,  but  really  there  wasn't  no  use, 
They  worked  for  over  an  hour,  but  couldn  't  get  none  of  it  loose, 
Till  Fogarty  went  for  a  hatchet  and  Kelly  he  came  with  a  saw. 
That  cake  was  enough,  be  the  powers,  to  paralyze  any  one's  jaw. 

Mrs.  Fogarty,  proud  as  a  peacock,  kept  smiling  and  blinking 

away, 
Till  she  tripped  over  Flannagan's  brogans  and  spilt  a  whole 

brewing  of  tay; 
Oh,  Gilhooly,"  she  cries,  "you're  not  ating,_try  a  little  piece 

more  of  my  cake." 
Says  I,  "No,  Mrs.  Fogarty,  thank  you,  but  I'd  like^  the  recate 

for  that  cake." 

Maloney  was  took  with  colic,  McNulty  complained  of  his  head, 
McFadden  laid  down  on  the  sofa  and  soon  he  wished  himself 

dead ; 
Miss  JDaly  fell  down  in  hysterics  and  there  she  did  wriggle  and 

shake, 
While  every  man  swore  he  was  poisoned  through  ating  Mrs. 

Fogarty's  cake. 


BALLENTOAVN  BRAE. 

Come,  all  you  young  folks,  I  pray  lend  an  ear, 
And  hear  the  sad  fate  of  two  lovers  so  dear; 
Concerning  young  Jessie  of  Ballentown  Brae, 
And  the  Lord  of  Morelands  that  led  her  estray. 

One  night  as  this  young  lord  he  lay  down  to  sleep, 
Young  Jessie  came  to  him  and  o'er  him  did  weep, 
Saying,  "My  once  blooming  cheeks  they  now  moulder  away, 
Beneath  the  cold  sods  in  Ballentown  Brae." 

It  was  then  that  this  young  lord  did  instantly  rise, 
"It's  the  voice  of  my  Jessie,"  he  franticly  cries; 
"And  if  she  is  dead  as  the  vision  does  say, 
I'll  lie  down  by  her  side  in  Ballentown  Brae." 

He  called  for  a  servant  to  saddle  his  steed, 

Over  high  hills  and  mountains  he  rode  at  great  speed, 

Until  he  arrived  at  the  noon  hour  of  day, 

At  the  cot  of  young  Jessie  on  Ballentown  Brae. 

44 


Jessie's  old  father  stood  at  his  own  gate, 
like  a  man  much  forlorn  bewailing  his  fate: 
The  young  lord  drew  near  to  afford  him  relief, 
And  begged  he  might  ask  him  the  cause  of  his  grief. 
"I  had  but  one  daughter/'  the  old  man  did  say, 
"And  now  she  lies  sleeping  in  Ballentown  Brae. 

"She  was  as  fair  as  a  lily,  as  mild  as  a  fawn, 
As  beauteous  a  maid  as  the  sun  e'er  shone  on; 
She  died  broken  hearted  like  one  in  despair, 
A-wringing  her  hands  and  tearing  her  hair, 
And  all  for  a  young  lord  that  led  her  astray, 
And  decoyed  her  from  home  in  Ballentown  Brae." 

"Then  I  am  the  traitor,"  the  young  lord  he  cried, 
"But  I  really  intended  to  have  made  her  my  bride." 
And  while  he  was  talking  a  small  sword  he  drew, 
With  the  heart  of  repentance  he  pierced  himself  through ; 
And  while  he  was  dying  those  words  he  did  say, 
"Lay  me  down  by  her  side  in  Ballentown  Brae." 


THE  CROPPY  BOY. 

It  was  early,  early  all  in  the  spring. 

The  small  birds  whistling  did  sweetly  sing, 

Char  from  tree  to  tree, 

And  the  song  they  sang  was  "Old  Ireland's  is  free. 

It  was  early,  early  last  Tuesday  night, 
The  Yeoman  Cavalry  gave  me  a  fright ; 
The  Yeoman  Cavalry  was  my  downfall, 
When  I  was  taken  before  Lord  Cornwall. 

It  was  in  his  guard  house  I  did  lay, 
And  in  his  parlor  they  swore  my  life  away; 
My  sentence  passed  and  with  courage  low, 
Unto  Dungannon  I  was  forced  to  go. 

And  when  I  was  marching  through  Wexford  street, 
My  cousin  Nancy  I  chanced  to  meet; 
My  own  first  cousin  did  me  betra}', 
And  for  one  guinea  swore  my  life  away. 

When  I  was  passing  my  father's  door, 

My  brother  William  stood  on  the  floor; 

My  aged  father  stood  at  the  door, 

And  my  tender  mother  her  gray  hair  she  tore. 

45 


My  sister  Mary  in  great  distress. 
She  rushed  down  stairs  in  her  mourning  dr 
Five  thousand  guineas  she  would  lay  down 
For  to  see  me  Liberated  in  Wexford  town. 

And  when  we  were  marching  up  Wexford  hill. 
Who  would  blame  me  were  I  to  cry  my  fill; 
With  a  guard  behind  and  a  guard  befoiv. 
But  my  tender  mother  111  see  no  more. 

And  when  I  was  standing  on  the  gallows  high. 

My  aged  father  was  standing  nigh; 

My  aged  father  did  me  deny. 

And  the  name  he  gave  me  was  the  Croppy  Boy. 

I  chose  the  dark  and  I  chose  the  blue, 
I  chose  the  pink  and  the  orange,  too; 
I  forsook  them  all  and  did  them  deny, 
I  wore  the  green  and  for  it  I'll  die. 

It  was  in  Dungannon  this  young  man  died. 

And  in  Dungannon  his  body  lies; 

And  all  good  people  that  this  way  pass  by, 

Say,  "May  the  Lord  have •  mercy  . on  the  Croppy  Boy!: 


MeSORLEY'S  TWINS. 

Mrs.  McSorley  had  fine  bouncing  twins. 

Two  fat  little  devils  they  were, 
With  squalling  and  bawling  from  morning  till  nightj 

They  would  deafen  you,  I  do  deck: 
Be  me  sowl  'twas  a  caution  the  way  they  would  scream, 

Like  the  blast  of  a  fisherman's  horn; 
Says  McSorley,  "Not  one  blessed  hour  have  a  slept, 

Since  them  two  little  devils  was  born." 

Chorus — 

With  the  beer  and  the  whiskey  the  whole  blessed  night, 
Sure,  they  couldn't  stand  up  on  their  pins; 

Such  an  elegant  time  at  the  christening  we  had, 
Of  McSorley 's  two  beautiful  twins. 

Says  Mrs.  McSorley,  "A  christening  we'll  have, 
For  to  give  the  two  darlings  a  name. ' ' 

"We  will,"  says  McSorley,  "sure  one  they  must  get, 
Something  grand,  to  be  sure,  for  that  same." 

For  Godmothers  Kate  and  Mag  Murphy  stood  up, 
46 


And  for  godfathers  earn?  the  two  Flyiu 
Johanna  Maria  and  Diagnaeiaus  O'Mara 

Was  the  name  that  they  christened  the  twins. 

When  the  christening  was  over  the  company  began 

ood  whiskey  to  fill  up  their  skins, 
And  the  neighbors  came  in  just  to  drink  a  good  health 

To  MeSorley's  two  beautiful  twins. 
When  old  Mrs.  Mullin  had  drank  all  her  punch, 

Sure,  her  limbs  wouldn't  hould  her  at  all, 
She  fell  in  the  cradle  on  top  of  the  twins, 
set  up  a  murthering  squall. 

Then  Mi  >rley  jumped  up  in  a  rage, 

And  she  threatened  Mrs.  Mullin 's  life; 
ould  Denny  Mullin,  "I'll  bate  the  first  man 
'  That'd  dare  lay  a  hand  on  me  wife." 

as  aiid  tl  ans  had  an  ould  grudge, 

And  the  MUrphys  pitched  into  the  Flynns, 
They  upset  the  cradle,  tipped  over  the  bed,    . 
And  they  smothered  the  two  little  tv 


THE  LASS  OF  DUXMORE. 

went  a-walking  one  morning, 
Bright  Phoebus  so  clearly  did  shine. 
And  the  meadow  larks  warbled  melodious, 
While  the  rose  in  the  valleys  did  twine ; 
It  was  there  I  beheld  a  fair  maid. 

It  was  down  by  a  grove  where  I  wandered, 

A  while  to  repose  in  the  shade, 
On  my  destiny  there  for  to  ponder, 
I  raised  up  on  my  feet  for  to  view  her, 

And  those  tender  words  I  cHd  say, 
"Who  are  you,  my  fairest  of  creatures? 

How  far  through  this  grove  do  you  stray ! 
She  answered,  "Kind  sir,  I  will  tell  you, 

And  the  truth  unto  you  I  deplore, 
It's  a  matter  that's  lately  befell  me, 

My  dwelling  place  is  down  in  Dunmore. 

"Oh,  once  I  did  love  a  boldv  seaman, 

And  he,  too  my  fond  heart  had  gained, 

No  mortal  on  earth  could  love  dearer, 
But  now  he  is  crossing  the  main, 

47 


With  Nelson,  that  hero  of  battle. 

In  the  English  navy  so  brave, 
Where  cannons  and  guns  loud  do  rattle, 

For  to  fight  the  proud  French  on  the  wave." 

"Then  perhaps  that  your  true  love-is  drowned, 

And  he  ne'er  will  return  home  again, 
For  many  a  man  has  fallen  a  victin* 

With  Nelson  while  crossing  the  main; 
And  thft  same  thing  might  happen  to  your  love, 

As  it's  happened  to  others  before, 
So  it's  come  with 'me  now,  I  pray,  darling. 

And  leave  the  dark  shades  of  Dunmore." 

"Oh.  how  could  I  be  so  unfaithful 

To  a  heart  that  is  constant  and  true, 
To  leave  my  own  father's  dwelling 

And  to  venture  my  fortunes  with  you  ? 
Oh,  the  people  would  call  me  unconstant. 

For  it's  truly  to  him  I  am  swor€, 
And  true  lovers  ne'er,  should  be  parted, 

I'll  wait  for  that  lad  in  Dunmore." 

Then  says  I,  "My  fair,  tender  blossom. 

The  spring  time  of  life  soon  will  be  o'e 
And  the  October  leaves  will  be  falling, 

They  will  fade  the  fair  Rose  of  Dunmore." 
When  I  found  that  her  heart  was  a-yielding, 

Like  I've  found  it  with  others  before, 
Oh,  I  packed  up  my  all  for  Rqnfralen, 

And  I  stole  the  fair  Rose  of  Dunmore. 


TEDDY  McGRAW. 

Come,  all  of  you  Hibernian  sons,  I  '11  tell  you  how  the  war  begun, 
It  was  caused  by  Mrs.  McGraw  and  son,  and  that's  the  way  the 

war  begun. 
With  me  ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my  son  was  a  Teddy  McGraw. 

Mrs.  McGraw  to  the  Captain  did  say,  my  son  Teddy  is  bold 

and  brave, 
Put  on  his  head  a  golden  cap  blood  and  ounds,  Teddy,  what 

do  you  think  of  that? 
With  me  ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my  son  was  a  Teddy  McGraw. 

Teddy  sailed  across  the  say  and  he  fought  in  the  war  for  many 
a  day, 

48 


ought  in  at  Timbuctoo, 

"With  me  ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my  son  was  a  Teddy  McGraw. 

Then  •    -Graw  wen;  to  the  shore  and  she  waited 

there  for  seven  years  or  more. 
■>ied  a  ship  far  out  at  say.  blood  and  ounds,  it's  a  warning; 

clear  t; 
With  me  ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my  son  was  a  Teddy  McGraw. 

Teddy  landed  without  in  the  place  of  them  he  had 

wooden 
When  he'd  embraced  his  mother  a  time  or  two  she  says,  "Teddy, 

dear,  sure  it  is  not  you, 
With  me  ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my  son  was  a  Teddy  McGraw. 

Oh,  was  you  drunk  or  was  yon  blind  when  you  left  your  two 

legs  far  behind. 
Or  was  you  -ore  your  legs  off  to 

the  kne 
With  me  ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my  son  was  a  Teddy  McGraw. 

I  was  nather  drunk  or  was  T  blind  whin  I  left  my  two  legs  far 

behind. 
But  when  a  mighty  cannon  ball.  WPIOO!  it  took  me  legs  off, 

brogues  and  all. 
With  me  ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my  son  was  a  Teddy  McGraw. 

A  mighty  war  I  will  proclaim  again'  the  king  and  queen  of 

Spain, 
And  I  will  make  them  rue  the  day  when  they  shot  the  legs  off 

me  child  away, 
"With  me  ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my  son  was  a  Teddy  McGraw. 


AS  I  RODE  DOWN  THROUGH  IRISHTOAVX. 

As  I  rode  down  through  Irishtown  one  evening  last  July, 

The  mother  of  a  soldier  in  tears  I  did  espy, 

Saying,  "God  be  with  you,  Johnnie  dear,   although  you   are 

far  away, 
For  you  my  heart  is  breaking  since  you  went  to  the  Crimea. 

"Oh,  Johnnie.  I  gave  you  schooling,  I  gave  you  a  trade  likewise, 
You  need  not  have  joined  the  army  if  you  had  taken  my  advise, 
You  need  not  go  to  face  the  foe  where  cannons  loud  do  roar, 
Think  of  the  thousands  that  have  fallen  now  upon  that  Russian 

shore. 
He  joined  the  Fourteenth  regiment,  it  was  a  splendid  corp, 

49 


They  landed  honorable  mention  upon  the  Russian  shore; 
He  fought  in  foreign  engagements  with  the  loss  of  men  each  day, 
And  there  is  many  a  mother  shedding  tears  for  sons  that  are 
far  away. 

"You  fought  at  Kurksharosko  where  you  did  not  succeed, 
Likewise   at   the   valley  .of   Inkcrman,    where   thousands   there 

did  bleed, 
You  fought  at  Balaklava,  too  it  was  there  you  gained  the  day, 
And  my  darling  is  a  hero  although  he's  far  away. 

''It  was  when  Ave  attacked  Sebastapool,  it  was  there  you' 

some  play,  . 
The  very  ground  we  stood  upon  it  shook,  the  truth  I  say, 
The  clouds  were  black  with  heavy  smoke  from  bomb  shells  firing 

there, 
And  thousands  weltering  in  their  blood  that  went  to  fight  the 

Bear. 

"TheJ,  English  said  they  would  gain  the  seas  whate'er  might 

be  their  doom, 
And  thousands  there  a-falling,  cut  down  in  their  youthful  bloom, 
There  Paddy's  sons  with  English  guns  their  valor  did  display, 
And  together  with  the  sons  of  France,  thank  God,  we  gained 

the  day. 

"Had  your  heart  been  made  of  iron  for  them  you  would  shed 

tears, 
To  see  those  heroes  falling,  cut  down  in  their  youthful  years, 
To  see  those  heroes  falling  and  weltering  in  their  gore, 
Par  from  their  home  and  friends,  iny  boys,  upon  that  Russian 

shore. 

"So  now  to  end  and  finish  and  to  conclude  my  song, 
I  thank  the  God  above  me  for  having  survived  so  long, 
Likewise  my  poor  old  mother,  'twas  her  I  did  adore, 
And  I  hope,  dear  mother,  to  meet  you  safe  in  Garryowne  once 
more. 


JACK  KOGERS. 

Come,  all  you  tender  Christians,  I  hope  you  will  lend  ear, 
And  likewise  pay  attention  to  those  few  lines  you'll  hear, 
For  the  murder  of  Mr.  Swanton  I  am  condemned  to  die, 
On  the  twelfth  day  of  November  upon  the  gallows  high. 

My  name  it  is  Jac  k  Rogers,  a  name  I'll  ne'er  deny, 

50 


Which  leaves  nn   aged  parents  in  sorrow  for  to  cry.. 

It's  little  did  they  ever  think,  all  in  my  youthful  bloom, 

That  I  would  into  New  York  to  meet  my  awful  doom. 

parents  reared  me  tenderly  as  you  can  plainly  see, 
I  constant  good  advice  they  used  to  give  to  me; 
They  told  me  to  shun  night  walking*  and  all  bad  company. 
Or  state's  prison  or  the  gallows  would  be  the  doom  of  me. 

But  it  was  in  play-houses  and  saloons  I  used  to  take  delight, 
And  constantly  my  comrades  they  would  me  there  invil 
I^oft  tin  old  by  them  that  the  use  of  knives  was  free, 

Arid  I  might  commit  some  murder  and  hanged  I  ne'er  would  be. 

[p.  Swanton  and  his  wife  were  walking  down  the  street, 
All  in  a  drunken  passion  I  chanced  them  for  to  meet, 
I  own  they  did  not  harm  me,  the  same  I'll  ne'er  deny. 
But  Satan  being  so  near  me,  I  could  not  pass  them  by. 

I  staggered  up  against  him,   'twas  then  he  turned  around, 
Demanding  half  the  sidewalk,  also  his  share  of  ground, 
'Twas  then  I  drew  that  fatal  knife  and  stabbed  him  to  the  heart, 
Which  caused  that  beloved  wife  from  her  husband  there  to  part. 

It  was  then  I  went  to  Trenton,  thinking  to  escape, 
But  the  hand  of  Providence  was  before  me.  indeed  I  was  too  late, 
It  was  there  I  was  taken  prisoner  and  brought  unto  the  Toombs, 
For  to  die  upon  the  gallows,  all  in  my  youthful  bloom. 

I  am  thankful  to  the  sheriff,  who  has  been  so  kind  to  me, 
Likewise  my  worthy  counsellors,  who  thought  to  set  me  free, 
And  also  to  the  clergyman,  who  brought  me  in  mind  to  bear, 
For  to  die  a  true  penitent  I  solemnly  do  declare. 

The  day  of  my  execution  it  was  heartrending  to  see, 

My  sister  came  from  Jersey  to  take  farewell  of  me, 

She  threw  herself  into  my  arms  and  bitterly  did  cry, 

Saying,  "Mfcr  well  beloved  brother,  this  day  you  have  to  die."    - 

And  now  my  joys  are  ended,  from  this  wide  world  I  must  part, 
For  the  murder' of  Mr.  Swanton  I'm  sorry  to  the  heart; 
Come,  all  you  young  ambitious  youths,  a  warning  take  from  me, 
Be  guided  by  your  parents  and  shun  bad  company. 


SHANTY  BOY, 

As  I  walked  out  one  evening  just  as  the  sun  went  down, 
So  carelessly  I  wandered  to  a  place  called  Stroner  town, 

51 


There  I  heard  two  maids  conversing  as  slowly  I  passed  *by, 
One  said  she  loved  her  farmer's  son,  and  the  other  her  shanty 
boy. 

The  one  that  loved  her  farmer's  son  those  words  I  heard  her  say, 
The  reason  why  she  loved  him,  at  home  with  her  he'd  stay, 
He  would  stay  at  home  all  winter,  to  the  woods  he  would  not  go, 
And  when  the  spring  it  did  come  in  his  grounds  he'd  plow  and 
sow. 

"All  for  to  plow  and  sow  your  land,"  the  other  girl  did  say, 
If  the  crops  should  prove  a  failure  your  debts  you  couldn't  pay; 
If  the  crops  should  prove  a  failure,  or  the  grain  market  be  low, 
The  sheriff  often  sells  you  out  to  pay  the  debts  yon  owe. ' ' 

"As  for  the  sheriff  selling  the  lot,  it  does  not  me  alarm, 
For  there's  no  need  of  going  in  debt  if  you  are  on  a  good  farm; 
You  make  your  bread  from  off  the  land,  need  not  work  through 

storms  and  rain, 
While   your   shanty   boy   works   hard   each   day   his   family  to 

maintain." 

"I  only  love  my  shanty  boy  who  goes  out  in  the  fall, 

He  is  both  stout  and  hardy,  well  fit  for  every  squall; 

With  pleasure  I'll  receive  him  in  the  spring  when  he  comes 

home, 
And  his  money  free  he  will  share  with  me  when  your  farmer's 

son  has  none." 

"Oh,  why  do  you  love  a  shanty  boy,  to  the  wild  wToods  he 

must  go, 
He  is  ordered  out  before  daylight  to  work  through  rain  and 

snow, 
While  happy  and  contented  my  farmer's  son  can  lie, 
And  tell  to  me  seme  tales  of  love  as  the, cold  winds  whistle  by." 

"I  don't  see  why  you  love  a  farmer,"  the  other  girl  did  say, 
"The  most  of  them  they  are  so  green  the  cows  would  eat  for  ha}r; 
It  is  easy  you  may  know  them  whenever  they're  in  town, 
The  small  boys  run  up  to  them  saviner,  'Rube,  how  are  vou 
down?'"  , 

"For  what  I  have  said  of  your  shanty  boy  I  hope  you  will 

pardon  me, 
And  from  that  ignorant  mossback  I  hope  to  soon  get  free, 
And  if  ever  I  get  rid  of  him  for  a  shanty  boy  I  will  go, 
I  will  leave  him  broken  hearted  his  grounds  to  plow  and  sow." 


52 


ROIilNE   OF   EDINBURG   TOWN. 

Come,  all  young  men  and  maidens,  come  listen  to  my  rhyme, 
It  is  all  about  a  nice  young  girl  that  was  scarcely  in  her  prime, 

beat  the  blushing'  roses,  admired  all  around. 
Was  lovely  little  Caroline  of  Edinburg  town. 

Young  Henry  was  a  Highland  man.  a-conrting  her  he  came, 
And  when  her  parents  came  to  know  they  did  not  like  the  same; 
Young  Henry  was  offended  and  this  to  her  did  say, 
"Rise  up,  my  lovely  Caroline,  and  with  me  run  away." 

Persuaded  by  young  Henry,  she  put  on  her  finest  gown, 
And  soon  was  traveling  on  the  road  from  Edinburg  town; 

ays  to  him,  "Oh,  Henry,  dear,  pray  never  on  me  frown, 
Or  you'll  break  the  heart  of  Caroline  of  Edinburg  town." 

They  had  not  been  in  London  scarcely  half  a  year 
When  hard-hearted  Henry  he  proved  to  be  severe; 

Henry.  "I'll  go  to  sea,  your  parents  did  on  me  frown, 
So  without  delay  go  beg  your  way  to  'Edinburg  town. 

The  fleet  is  fitting  out  and  to  Spithead  is  dropping  down, 
And  I  will  join  in  that  fleet  to  fight  for  King  and  Crown; 
"The  gallant  tar  might  feel  the  sear  or  in  the  waters  drown, 
But/'  says  she,  ';I  never  will  return  to  Edinburg  town." 

Filled  with  grief  without  relief,  this  maiden  she  did  go, 
Right  into  the  wood  to  eat  such  food  as  on  the  bushes  grew: 
Some  strangers  they  did  pity  her  and  more  did  on  her  frown, 
And  some  did  say  what  made  you  stray  from  Edinburg  town? 

It  was  on  a  lofty  jutting  cliff  this  maid  sat  down  to  cry, 
A-watching  of  King  Henry's  ships  as  they  were  sailing  by: 
She  says,  "Farewell,  oh,  Henry  dear,"  and  plunged  her  body 

down. 
And  that's  what  became  of  Caroline  of  Edinburg  town. 

A  note  was  in  her  bonnet  that  was  found  along  the  shore, 
And  in  the  note  a  lock  of  hair  and  those  words,   "I  am  no 

more ; 
I  am  fast  asleep   down   in   the   deep,   the   fishes  are  watching 

'round, 
What  once  was  lovely  Caroline  of  Edinburg  town." 


EXILE  OF  ERIN. 

There  came  to  the  beach  a  poor  exile  of  Erin. 

The  dew  on  his  thin  robe  was  heavy  and  chill, 
53 


For  his  country  he  sighed  wneh  at  twilight  repairing. 

To  wander  alone  by  the  wind  beaten  hill; 
But  the  day  star  attracted  his  eyes'  sad  devotion, 
For  it  rose  on  his  own  native  Isle  of  the  ocean, 
Whcere  once  in  the  flow  of  his  youthful  emotion., 
He  sang-  the  bold  anthem  of  Erin  Go  Bragh. 

"Oh,  sad  is  my  fate,,J  said  the  heart  broken  stranger, 
"The  wild  deer  and  roe  to  the  mountains  can  flee, 
But  I  have  no  refuge  from  famine  or  danger, 

A  home  and  a  country  remains  not  for  me; 
Oh,  never  again  in  the  green  shady  bower, 
Where  my  forefathers  lived  shall  I  spend  the  sweet  hours, 
Or  cover  my  harp  with  the  wild  woven  flowers. 
And  strike  the  sweet  numbers  of  Erin  Go  Bragh. 

Oh,  Erin,  my  country,  though  sad  and  forsaken, 
In  dreams  I  revisit  thy  sea-beaten  shore. 

But  alas!  in  a  far  foreign  land  I  aAvaken, 

And  sigh  for  the  friends  that  can  meet  me  no  more ; 

And  thou,  cruel  fate,  will  thou  never  replace  me, 

In  a  mansion  of  peace  where  no  perils  can  chase  me? 

Oh,  never  again  shall  my  brothers  embrace  me, 
They  died  to  defend  me  or  live  to  deplore. 

Where  is  my  cabin  once  fast  by  the  wildwood. 

Sisters  and  sire  did  weep  for  its  fall, 
Where  is  the  mother  that  looked  over  my  childhood, 

And  where  is  my  bosom  friend,  dearer  than  all? 
Ah,  my  sad  soul,  long  abandoned  by  pleasure, 
Why  did  it  dote  on  a  fast  .fading  treasure? 
Tears  like  the  rain  may 'fall  without  measure, 

But  rapture  and  beauty  they  cannot  recall. 

But  yet  all  its  fond  recollections  suppressing, 

One  dying  wish  my  fond  bosom  shall  draw. 
Erin,  an  exile  bequeaths  thee  his  blessing, 

Land  -of  my  forefathers,  Erin  Go  Bragh ; 
Buried  and  cold  when  my  heart  stills  its  motion, 
Green  be  thy  fields  fairest  Tsle  of  the  ocean, 
Aul  the  harp  striking  bard  slugs  aloud  with  devotion, 

"Erin  I\Lavourncen,  sweet  "Erin  Go  Bragh.'' 


DEAR  LAND. 

When  comes  the  day  all  hearts  to  weigh  if  tiny  be  staunch  or 
vile, 

54 


I  we  forgel  the  sacred  debt  v  ur  mother  isle.1 

ative  heath  is  brown  beneath,  my  native  waters  ; 
But  crimson  red  o'er  both  shall  spread  ere  I  am  false  to  yon. 
Dear  land,  "ere  I  am  false  to  you. 

i    !    behold   your   mountains   bold,    your   noble   lakes   and 

lingled  tide  and  pride  within  my  bosom  turns; 

I  think  of  all  your  long  dark  thrall,  your  martyrs  brave  and  true, 
And  dash  apart  the  tears  that  start,  we  must  not  weep  for  yon. 

Dear  land,  we  must  not  weep  for  you. 

3*andsire  die<j  his  borne  beside,  they  seized  and  banned  him 

. 
tily  erim  1  time  was  your  hallowed 

e  main  his  b  twain  were  sent  to  pine  and  rue, 

And  still  they  turned  with  hearts  that  burned  in  hopeless  love 
to  ; 

tar  land,  in-hopele  to  you. 

My  b  to  hear  of  Erin's  pride  of  you, 

foot  had  dared  pollute  her  independent  shore, 
ad  who  rose  to  head  some  gallant  patriots  few, 
Till  all  my  aim  on  earth  became  to-strike  one  blow  for  yon. 
:■  land,  to  strike  one  blow  for  yon. 

path  is  best  your  rights  to  wrest,  let  other  beads  divine, 
By  work  or  word  with  voice  or  sword  to  follow  them  be  mine; 
-r  that  zeal  and  hatr  no  terrors  can  subdu 

ath  should  come  thai   martyrdom  were  sweet  endured  for 

Dear  land.  tidured  for  you. 


THE   FAITHLESS  WIFE. 

Well  met,  well  met.  my  own  true  b> 

said  lie, 
;  Ye  just  returned  from  the  deep  salt 
3  all  for  the  sake  of  thee. 

Oil,  I  might  ha\e  married  a  Queen's  daughfer, 
For  she  would  have  married  me. 

But  I  forsook  her  vrown  of  gold. 
And  it  was  all  for  the  sake  of  ti 

If  you  could  have  married  a  Queen's  daughter, 
I'm  sure  you  are  much  to  bla 


For  T  am  married  to  a  house  carpenter, 
And  I  think  he's  a  nice  young  man. 

If  you  will  leave  your  house  carpenter, 

And  go  along  with  me, 
I  will  bring  you  where  the  grass  grows  green. 

On  the  banks  of  the  sweet  Dundee. 

Were  I  to  leave  my  house  carpenter. 

And  go  along  with  thee, 
What  have  you  got  to  maintain  me  tin 

Or  to  keep  me  from  slavery 

I  have  five  ships  on  the  ocean  wide, 

All  sailing  for  dry  land. 
With  a  hundred  and  ten  of  their  jolly  seamen, 

To  be  at  your  command. 

She  picked  up  her  darling  babe, 

And  kisses  gave  it  three, 
Saying.  k '  Stay  at  home,  my  sweet  little  babe, 

Keep  your  papa  company." 

They  had  not  sailed  two  weeks,  I  believe, 

I  am  sure  it  was  not  three, 
Until  this  pretty  fair  maid  began  to  weep, 

And  she   wept   most  bitterly. 

"Oh,  do  you  weep  for  my  gold?"  said  he, 

Or  do  you  weep  for  my  store, 
Or  do  you  weep  for  your  house  carpenter, 

That  you  left  on  yonder  shore  . 

"I  do  not  weep  for  your  gold,"'  said  she, 

"Or  neither  for  your  store. 
But  I  do  weep  for  my  sweet  little  babe, 

That  I  never  will  see  more." 

They  had  not  sailed  three  weeks,  I  believe, 

I  am  sure  it  was  not  four, 
Until  her  true  love's  ship  it  struck  a  rock. 

And  it  sank  to  rise  no  more. 

"Curse  one,  curse  all,"  this  fair  maid  cried, 

"Oli,  curse  a  sailor's  life, 
For  they  robbed  me  of  my  sweet  little  babe, 

And  deprived  me  of  my  life." 


56 


YOUNG  CHARLOTTE. 

the  mountain  side  in  a  wild  and  lonely 

welling  there  for  three  miles  round  except  her  father" 

wouW  gather 

ung  and  fair. 

Pier  father  loved  to  see  her  dressed  as  fine  as  a  city  belle. 

the  only  child  he  had  and  he  loved  his  daughter 
well : 

It  is  down,  v  .11  her  longing 

Out  at  the  frosty  window  for  to  see  the  sleighs  go  by? 

village  inn  fifteen  miles  off  there  is  ft  merry  ball  tonight, 
The  air  is  cold  and  piercing,  but  her  heart  beats  warm  and 

er  longing  eyes  till  a  well  known  sound 
she  hears. 
When  dashing  up  to  the  cottage  door  young  Charlie's  sleigh 
appears. 

'!Oh,  daughter  dear,"  the  mother  cries,  "this  blanket  around 

you  fold, 
It  is  a  dreadful  night,  you  know  and  vou'll  catch  your  death 

of  cold." 
"Oh,  nay.  oh.  nay!"  fair  Charlotte  said,  and  she  laughed  like 

ypsy  queen, 
':To  ride  in  blankets  muffled  up  I  never  shall  be  seen. 

"My  silken  cloak  is  warm  enough,  you  know  it  is  lined  through- 
out, 
Besides  I  have  a  silken  shawl  to  tie  my  neck  about." 
Her  bonnet  and  her  gloves  were  on,  she  jumped  into  the  sleigh, 
.And  away  they  rode  by  the  mountainside  and  over  the  hills 
away. 

life  in  i  i  I  of  the  merry  bells  as  o'er  the  hills 

they  go, 
What  a  creaking  doth  the  runners  make  as  they  bite  the  frozen 

snow. 
With  muffled  face  all  silently,  five  cold  long  miles  they  passed, 
When  Charlie  in  a  few  frozen  words  the' silence  broke  at  last. 

''Such  a  night  as  this  I  never  knew,  the  reins  I  scarce  can  hold," 
When  Charlotte  said  in  a  feeble  voice,4  "T  am  exceeding  cold." 
lie  cracked  his  whip  and  hurried  his  steeds  more  swiftly  than 
fore, 

57 


Until  at  length  five  other  miles  they  quickly  did  pass  o'er. 

At  length  said  Charles.  l*How  fast  the  ice  is  gathering  on  my 
brow. 

Young  Charlotte  said  in  a  feeble  voice,  "I  am  growing  warmer 
now. 

Still  on  they  glide  through  the  frosty  air  and  in  the  cold  star- 
light, 

Until  at  length  the  village  inn  and  the  ball-room  were  in  sight. 

They  reached  the  place  and  Charles  jumped  out  and  held  his 

hands  for  her, 
""Why  sit  you  there  like  a  monument,  have  you  >lo  power  to 

stir 
1  fie  asked  her  once,  he  asked  her  twice,  she  answered  not  a  word, 
He  asked  her  for  her  hand  again,  and  yet  she  never  stirred. 

He  took  her  hands  within  his  own — oh,  Cod,  they  were  cold  as 

stone, 
He  tore  the  mantle  from  her  brow,  the  cold  stars  on  her  shone; 
Then  quickly  to  the  lighted  hall  her  lifeless  form  he  bore, 
Young  Charlotte  was  a  fro/en  corpse  and  never  spoke  no  more. 

He  sat  himself  down  by  her  side,  and  the  bitter  tears  did  flow, 
He  said,  "My  dear  intended  bride,  you  no  more  will  sorrow 

know. 
He   threw  his   arms   around   her  neck   and   kissed   her  marble 

brow. 
And  his  thoughts  went  back  to  the  place  where  she  said,  "I 

am  growing  warmer  now.'' 

He  put  the  corpse  into  the  sleigh  and  quickly  hurried  home. 
And  when  he  reached  the  cottage  door,   oh,  how  her  parents 

mourned ! 
They  mourned  for  the  loss  -of  their  daughter  dear,  and  young 

Charlie  mourned  for  his  bride. 
He  mourned  until  his  heart  did  break  and  they  slumber  side 
ide. 


THE  CLIPPER  SHIP  "DRIEADN  AUGHT." 

'We  have  a  flash  packet,  she's  a  packet  of  fame. 
She  belongs  to  New  York  and  the  kkDreadnaught''  is  her  name; 
She  is  bound  for  the  ocean  where  the  stormy  winds  blow. 
Bound  away  on  the  "Dreadnaught"  to  the  Westward  we'll  go. 

Now  we  are  laying  at  the  Liverpool  dock, 

58 


Where  the  boys  and  s  on  the  pier-heads  do  flock. 

And  they  gave  its  thr<  s  while  their  tears  down  did  flow, 

Bound  away  on  the  ''Dreadnought'5  to  the  Westward  we'll  go. 

The  " Dreadnaught "  is  lying  in  the  river  Mersy, 

Waiting  for  the  tug  "Constitution"  to  tow  us  to  sea, 

She  tows  around  the  Black  Rock  where  the  Mersy  does  flow, 

Bound  away  on  the  "Dreadnanght ''  to  the  Westward  we'll  go. 

And  now  we  are  howling  on  the  wild  Irish  sea. 
Where  the  sailors  and  passengers 

the  sailors  are  perched  on  the  yard  arms,  you  know. 
Bound  away  on  the  "Dreadnaught"  to  the  Westward  we'll  go. 

Now  we  are  sailing  on  the  ocean  so  wide, 

Where  the  great  open  billows  dash  against  her  black  side, 

the  sailors  off  watch  are  all  sleeping  below, 
Bound  away  on  the  "Dreadnaught"  to  the  Westward  we'll  go. 

I  now  we  are  sailing  off  the  banks  of  New  Foundland, 
Where  the  waters  are  deep  and  the  bottom  is  sand, 
Whe  ish  of  the  ocean  they  swim  to  and  fro, 

Bound  away  on  the  "Dreadnaught"  to  the  Westward  we'll  go. 

now  we  are  howling  off  Long  Island's  green  shore, 
Where  the  pilot  he  bards  us  as  he's  oft  done  before, 
Fill  away  your  main  top  sails,  port  your  main  tack  also, 
s  a  Liverpool  packet.  Loi  let  her  go. 

And  now  we  are  riding  in  New  York  Harbor  once  more, 
I  will  go  and  see  Na  he  girl  I  adore, 

To  the  parson  I'll  take  her,  my  bride  for  to  be, 
Farewell  to  the  "Dreadnaught"  and  the  deep  stormy  sea. 


TILE  DAY  THAT  I  PLAYED  BASEBALL. 

ne  name  it  is  0 'Houlihan,  I'm  a  man  that  influential, 
I  mind  my  business,  stay  at  home  me  wants  are  few  and  small; 
But  the  other  day  a  gang  did  come,  they  were  filled  with  whis- 
key, gin  and  rum, 
And  they  took  me  out  in  the  broiling  sun  to  play  a  game  of  ball. 

They  made   me   i^wry   all   tie  I    thought   they'd   set   me 

azy, 
They  put  me  out  in  the  center  field,  sure  T  paralyzed  them  all; 
When  I  put  up  me  hands  to  stop  a  fly,  holy  murther,  it  struck 

me  in  the  eye, 
And  they  laid  me  .out  by  the  fence  to  die  on  the  day  that  I 
played  baseball. 

59 


There  was  O'Shaughnessy  of  the  second  nine,  he  was  throwing 
them  underhanded, 

He  put  a  twirl  upon  them  and  I  couldn't  strike  them  at  all; 
The  umpire  he  called  strikes  on  me;  "What's  that?"  says  I: 

"You're  out,"  says  he, 
Bad  luck  to  you  O'Shaughnessy,  and  the  way  that  you  twirled 

the  ball.' 

Then  I  went  to  bat  and  I  knocked  the  ball  I  thought  to  San 

Francisco, 
Around  the  bases  three  times  three,  by  Heavens,  I  run  them  all, 
When  the  gang  set  up  a  terrible  howl,  saying,  "O 'Houlihan, 

you  struck  a  foul, 
And  they  rubbed  me  clown  with  a  Turkish  towel  on  the  day 

that  I  played  baseball. 

The  catcher  swore  by  the  Jack  of  Trumps  that  he  saw  me  steal- 
ing bases, 

And  fired  me  into  a  keg  of  beer,  I  loud  for  help  did  call ; 

I  got  roaring,  staving,  stone-blind  drunk,  I  fell  in  the  gutter,  I 
lost  my  spunk, 

I  had  a  head  on  me  like  an  elephant's  trunk  on  the  day  that  I 
played  baseball. 

The  reporters  begged  to  know  my  name  and  presented  me  with 

a  medal, 
They  asked  me  for  my  photograph  to  hang  upon  the  wall; 
Saying,  "0 'Houlihan  you  won  the  game,"  though  me  head  was 

sore  and  shoulder  lame, 
And  they  sent  me  home  on  a  cattle  train  on  the  day  that  T 

played  baseball. 


THE  LAND  WHERE  THE  SHAMROCKS  GROW. 

There  is  an  Island  that's  famed  in  her  story, 

Sweet  poets  have  sung  in  her  prais 
Her  verses  have  no  brighter  glory, 

But  her  sons  have  seen  happier  days: 
Let  an  Irishman  roam  the  world  over, 

No  matter  where'er  he  may  be, 
He  never  will  forget  dear  old  Ireland, 

The  Emerald  Gem  of  the  Sea. 

Chorus — 
For  some  love  the  land  of  the  thistle, 

Or  England  with  her  wild  red  rose, 
But  our  hearts  are  away  in  old  Ireland, 

The  land  where  the  Shamrock  grows. 
60 


Her  sons  they  are  one  and  true  hearted, 

Her  daughters  are  virtuous  and  true, 
Though  passing  through  time  of  great  trouble, 

Give  the  children  of  Ireland  their  due; 
And  her  boys  in  the  ranks  of  a  soldier, 

Have  many  hard  victories  .gained, 
They  never  turned  tail  on  the  foeman, 

They'd  sooner  be  found  'mong  the  slain. 

There  lias  been  sad  trouble  of  late  in  old  Ireland, 

But  don't  give  poor  Pat  all  the  blame, 
His  deeds  never  tarnished  his  honor. 

It  keeps  from  his  cheeks  the  red  blushes  of  shame 
But  the  deeds  of  the  dark  depredators, 

And  quarrels  with  landlords  about  rent, 
If  it  were  not  for  those  paid  agitatoi 

You'd  soon  find  old  Ireland  content. 

May  Ireland  soon  cease  her  repining. 

And  her  sons  be  content  with  their  lot, 
Each  dark  cloud  has  a  silvery  lining, 

So  may  peace  reign  in  mansion  and  cot; 
Let  Ireland's  dark  day  soon  be  over, 

And  peace  in  our  country  reign, 
And  make  us  more  friendly  to  England, 

And  be  true  sisters  again. 


LOST  ON  THE  LADY  ELGIN. 

Up  from  the  poor  man's  cottage,  forth  from  the  mansion  door, 
Sweeping  across  the  water  and  echoing  along  the  shore, 
Caught  by  the  morning  breezes,  borne  on  the  evening  gale, 
Came  at  the  dawn  of  morning  a  sad  and  solemn  wail. 

Refrain — 
Lost  on  the  Lady  Elgin,  sleeping  to  wake  no^more, 
Numbering  in  death  five  hundred  that  failed  to  reach  the  shore. 

Sad  was  the  wail  of  children,  weeping  for  parents  gone, 
Children  that  slept  at  evening,  orphans  woke  at  morn ; 
Sisters  for  brothers  weeping,  husbands  for  missing  wives, 
These  were  the  ties  that  were  severed  by  those  five  hundred  lives. 

Staunch  was  the  noble  steamer,  precious  the-  freight-  she  bore, 
Gaily  they  loosed  their  cables  a  few  short  hours  before, 
Proudly  she  swept  our  harbor,  joyfully  rang  the  bell, 
Little  they  thought  ere  morning  it  would  peal  so  sad  a  knell. 

61 


ROSE  0 'GRADY. 

Just  down  around  the  corner  of  a  street  where  I  reside, 
There  lives  the  sweetest  little  girl  that  I  have  ever  spied; 
Her  name  is  Rose  O 'Grady  and  I  don't  mind  telling  you, 
That  she's  the  sweetest  little  Rbse  that  the  garden  ever  grew. 

Chorus — ■ 
Sweet  Rosie  O 'Grady,  my  dear  little  Rose, 
She's  my  steady  lady,  most  every  one  knows, 
And  when  we  are  married,  how  happy  we'll  be, 
For  I  love  Rosie  0 'Grady  and  Rosie  O 'Grady  loves  me. 

I  never  shall  forget  the  day  she  promised  to  be  mine, 
As  we  sat  telling  love  tales  in  the  good  old  summer  time; 
It  was  on  her  finger  that  1  slipped  a  small  engagement  ring, 
While  overhead  the  little  birds  this  song  they  seemed  to  sing. 


SINCE  JAMES  WENT  OX  THE  STAGE. 

My  name  is  Patrick  Hogan,  in  this  city  I  reside, 

I  raised  a  son  to  manhood  and  he  was  my  joy  and  pride, 

But  now  play  actors  and  such  trash  does  all  his  time  engage, 

Me  carpet  is  tore  and  me  house  is  in  a  roar, 

Since  James  went  on  the  stage. 

Chorus-  - 
He  wears  long  shoes  and  striped  socks, 

And  he  says  they're  all  the  rage; 
Me  carpet  is  tore  and  me  house  is  in  a  roar 

Since  James  went  on  the  stage. 

He  has  me  hat  and  coat  all  spiled  and  everything  is  broke, 
He  druv  his  fut  thru  the  flure  when  he  was  tryin'  to  dance  the 
lively  moke. 

He  says  he'll  make  a  terrible  hit  and  he  tells  me  he's  immense 
And  he  took  the  ould  woman's  petticoat  to  play  the  Nagur 

Wench ; 
He  sings,  "Ta-ta  and  ira-la-la-le, "  just  like  a  bird  in  a  cage, 
And  he's  set  me  nearlv  crazy  since  he  went  upon  the  stage. 


THE  SONG  THAT  REACHED  MY  HEART. 

I  sat  'midst  a  mighty  throng  within  a  palace  grand, 
In  a  city  far  beyond  the  sea,  in  a  distant  foreign  land, 

62 


d  to  llif  grandest  si  rain  my  ear  had  over  heard, 
Enraptured,  charmed,  amazed  I  was ;  my  inmost  soul  was  stirred. 
I  looked  on  the  singer  fair,  my  heart  was  at  her  feet — 
She  sang  of  love,  the  old,  old  theme,  in  accents  low  and  sweet; 
And  then  she  sang  a  song  that  made  the  teardrops  start, 
She  sang  a  song,  a  song  of  home,  a  song  that  reached  my  Heart. 

That  night  I  never  shall  forget,  that  night  with  its  pleasure  and 

pain, 
I  think  of  the  singer,  I  think  of  the  song,  and  wish  I  could  live 

it  again  ; 
In  fancy  again  I  recall  the  scene  witli  its  splendor  bright, 
The  mighty  throng,  the  palace  grand — oh,  the  mem'ry  of  that 

night ! 

fancy  it  may  have  been,  but  never  had  I  heard 
A  song  that  thrilled  me  o'er  like  this,  like  this  so  strangely 

stirred ; 
The  menrries  of  that  night  of  bliss  will  never  from  me  part, 
She  sang  a  song  of  "Home,  Sweet  Home,''  the  song  that  reached 

my  heart.  # 

Home,  Home,  Sweet,  Sweet  Home,  She  sang  a  song  of  Home, 
•Sweet  Home, 

The  song  that  readied  mv  heart. 


BERNARD  RILEY. 

My  name  is  Owen  Riley,  I  have  a  son  that  sets  me  crazy; 
He  comes  home  every  night  singing  blackguard  songs, 
That  he  learnt  at  the  free  and  azy. 

CKorus — 

He's  gone,  he's  gone,  the  Lord  knows  where, 

Yes,  he's  gone  to  the  divil  entirely: 
He  tells  me  that  he's  looking  for  the  lost  Charlie  Ross, 

God  help  you,  Bernard  Riley. 

:  me  home  the  other  night  about  two  o'clock  in  the  mornin^ 
He  wanted  strawberries  and  ice  cream  for  his  supper, 
When  they  brought  him  cabbage  and  corned  mate, 
He  flung  it  out  in  the  gutter. 


.-' 


He  came  home  the  other  night  with  a  pair  of  boxing  gloves, 
Struck  his  sister  across  the  legs  with  a  poker ; 

He  had  a  ould  deck  of  cards  and  he  wanted  me  to  play 
Sancho,  pedro,  seven-up,  with  the  joker. 

63 


He  went  out  the  other  day  and  he  pawned  me  Sunday  pants, 

For  to  go  and  lay  a  wager, 
And  he  took  me  down  in  the  old  Third  ward, 

To  fight  again  a  hi"1  buck  Nagsmr, 


THE  HAT  ME  FATHER  WORE. 

I  am  Paddy  Miles,  an  Irish  boy,  from  far  across  the  sea, 
For  singing  or  for  dancing,  oh,  I  think  I  can  please  ye, 
I  can  sing  and  dance  with  any  man  as  I  did  in  days  of  yore, 
And  on  Patrick's  day  I  long  to  wear  the  hat  me  Father  wore. 

Chorus— 
It's  ould  but  it's  beautiful,  the  best  you  ever  seen, 
It  was  worn  for  more  than  ninety  years  in  that  little  isle  so 

green ; 
From  me  Father's  great  ancestors  it  descended  with  galore, 
It's  a  relic  of  ould  dtecency,  it's  the  hat  me  Father  wTore. 

I  bid  you  all  good  evening,  good  luck  to  you,  I  say, 
And  when  I'm  on  the  ocean  I  hope  for  me  you '11  pray; 
I  am  going  to  me  happy  home  in  a  place  called  Ballymore, 
To  be  welcomed  back  to  Paddy's  land  with  the  hat  we  Father 
wore. 

And  when  I  do  return  again,  the  boys  and  girls  to  see, 
I  hope  that  with  ould  Erin's  style  you'll  kindly  welcome  me, 
And  sing  me  songs  of  Ireland  to  cheer  me  more  and  more. 
And  to  make  me  Irish  heart  feel  glad  with  the  hat  me  Father 
wrore. 


TIDY  IRISH  LAD. 

I'm  a  tidy  bit  of  an  Irish  lad,  as  you  can  plainly  see, 
And  I  like  a  drop  of  the  creature  when  I  go  out  upon  a  spree ; 
1  like  a  drop  of  the  creature  in  a  good  old  Irish  style, 
And  a  better  drop  cannot  be  had  than  is  sold  in  the  Emerald 
Isle. 

Chorus — 
Far  away  from  our  native  country,  me  boys,  we  sometimes  roam, 
We  won't  forget  we  are  Irishmen,  although  we're  far  from  home. 

Oh,  they  say  no  Irish  need  apply,  it  is  a  thing  I  don't  under- 
stand, 

64 


what  would  the  English  army  do  if  it  were  not  for  Paddy's 
land  : 

:■  they  went  to  battle  they  never  were  known  to  win, 
Except  when  the  ranks  they  were  filled  up  with  the  best  of 
Irish  m- 

If  was  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  Sebastapool  the  same, 
The  sons  of  Paddy's  land  they  showed  that  they  were  game; 
They  gave  three  hearty  cheers,  me  boys,  in  a  good  old  Irish  style, 
And  Ave  walloped  the  Russians  at  Inkerman,  did  the  boys  of  the 
Emerald  Isle. 


NO  IRISH  WANTED  HERE. 

I  am  an  Irish  laborer,  both  hearty,  stout  and  strong, 
Idleness  I  never  loved,  to  our  race  it  don't  belong; 
I  have  still  the  strength  and  will  to  toil,  for  the  wants  of  life 

are  dear. 
But  I'm  told  wherever  I  ask  for  work,  '-No  Irish  wanted  here." 

You  may  think  it  a  misfortune  to  be  christened  Pat  or  Dan, 
But  to  me  it  is  a  blessing-  to  be  called  an  Irishman; 
I  may  live  to  see  the  day,  it  will  come,  oh,  never  fear, 
When  ignorance  gives  way  to  sense  and  you'll  welcome  Irish 
here. 

When  your  country  was  in  danger  a  few  short  years  ago, 
You  were  not  so  particular  then  who  would  go  and  fight  the  foe; 
When  men  were  wanted  in  the  ranks  to  preserve  her  rights  so 

dear. 
Among  the  bravest  of  the  brave  was  our  Irish  volunteers. 

Oh,  let  your  hearts  be  generous,  help  Paddy  from  the  wall, 
For  there's  but  one  God  above  us  who  knows  and  loves  us  all; 
I  may  live  to  see  the  clay,  it  will  come,  oh,  never  fear, 
When  ignorance  gives  way  to  sense  anct  you'll  welcome  Irish 
here. 


THE  BELLS  OF  SHANDON. 

With  deep  affection  and  recollection, 
I  often  think  of  those  Shandon  Bells, 

Whose  sounds  so  wild  would  in  days  of  childhood 
Fling  over  my  fancy  their  magic  spells; 

65 


On  this  I  ponder  where'er  I  wander. 

And  thus  grow  fonder,  Sweet  Cork  of  thee, 

While  thy  Bells  of  Shandon  sound  far  more  grand  on 
The  pleasant  waters  of  the  River  Lee. 

I've  heard  bells  chiming  full-many  a  clim< 

Tolling  sublime  in  cathedral  shrine, 
While  at  glib  rate  brass  tongues  would  vibrate, 

But  all  their  music  spoke  naught  like  thine; 
For  memory  dwelling  on  each  proud  swelling. 

Of  the  belfry  knelling  its  bold  notes  free, 
Made  the  Bells  of  Shandon  sound  far  more  grand  on 

The  pleasant  waters  of  the  River  Lee. 

I've  heard  bells  toU-ing  old  Adrian  Mole  in, 

Their  thunders  rolling  from  the  Vatican, 
With  Cymbals  glorious  swinging  uproarious, 

In  the  gorgeous  turrets  of  Notre  Dame; 
But  thy  sounds  are  sweeter  than  the  Dome  of  Peter, 

Flings  over  the  Tiber  pealing  solemnly, 
Oh,  the  Bell  of  Shandon  sound  far  more  grand  on 

The  pleasant  waters  of  the  Rdver  Lee. 

There's  a  bell  in  Moscow  while  on  Tower  and  Kiosko, 

In  St.  Sophia  the  Turkman  gets, 
And  loud  in  air  calls  men  to  prayer, 

From  the  tapering  summit  of  tall  Minarets; 
Such  an  empty  phantom  I  freely  grant  them, 

But  there's  an  anthem  more  dear  to  me, 
'Tis  the  Bells  of  Shandon  that  sound  so  grand  on 

The  pleasant  waters  of  the  River  Lee. 


THAT  TUMBLE-DOWN  SHACK  IN  ATHONE. 

I'm  a  long  way  from  home  and  my  thoughts  ever  roam 

To  ould  Erin  far  over  the  sea; 
For  my  heart  it  is  there  where  the  skies  are  so  fair, 

And  ould  Ireland  is  calling  for  me. 

Chorus — 
Oh,  I  want  to  go  back  to  that  tumble-down  shack, 

Where  the  wild  roses  bloom   'round  the  door, 
Just  to  pillow  my  head  in  that  ould  trundle  bed, 

Just  to  see  my  ould  mother  once  more. 
Theres'  a  bright  gleaming  light,  guiding  me  home  tonight, 
Down  the  long  road  of  white  cobble  stone; 

66 


Down  the  road  that  loads  hack  to  that  tumble-down  shack, 
To  that  tumble-down  shack  in  Athlone. 

There  are  eyes  that  are  sad  as  they  watch  for  a  lad 

In  the  old-fashioned  town  of  Athlone; 
And  I  pray  for  the  day  when  I'm  sailing  away 

To  onld  Ireland,  and  mother,  my  own. 


THE   REGULAR   ARMY.   OH. 

Three  years  ago  this  very  day  we  went  to  Governor's  Isle, 
For  to  stand  ferninst  the  cannon  in  true  military  style; 
Seventeen  American  dollars  each  month  we'd  surely  get, 
For  to  carry  a  gun  and  bayonet  with  a  regimental  step; 
We  had  our  choice  of  going  to  the  army  or  to  jail, 
Of  up  the  Hudson  river  with  a  cop  to  take  a  sail: 
We  mustered  up  our  courage  and  with  bravery  did  we  go, 
Oh.  we  cursed  the  day  we  went  away  witli  the  Regular  Army  Oh. 

Chorus — 
There  was  Sergeant  John  MeCaffery  and  Captain  Donahue, 
They  would  make  us  march  and  toe  the  mark  in  gallant  Com- 
pany  Q; 
Oh,  the  drums  would  roll  upon  my  soul,  this  is  the  style  we'd  go, 
Forty  miles  a  day  on  beans  and  hay  in  the  Regular  Army  Oh. 

We  went  to  Arfzona  to  fight  the  Indians  there, 
We  came  near  being  bald-headed,  but  they  never  got  our  hair; 
We  lay  among  the  ditches  in  the  dirty  yellow  mud, 
And  we  never  saw  an  onion,  a  turnip  or  a  spud; 
On  the  telegraphic  wire  we  walked  to  Mexico, 
And  we  blessed  the  day  we  skipped  away  from  the  Regular 
Army  Oh. 

We  are  as  dry  as  army  herrings  and  as  hungry  as  a  Turk, 
The  boys  along  the  street  cry  out,  "Soldiers,  would  you  work?" 
We  would  ship  into  the  navy  to  plow  the  raging  sea, 
But  salt  water  sure  we  could  not  endure,  it  would  never  agree 

with  me; 
We'll  join  the  Politicians  and  then  we'll  be  well  fed, 
We'll  sleep  no  more  upon  the  ground,  but  in  a  feather  bed; 
And  if  a  war  it  should  break  out  and  they'd  call  on  us  to  go, 
We'd  hire  Italian  substitutes  for  the  Regular  Army  Oh. 


67 


KITTY,  THE  WICKLOW  GIRL. 

God  bless  you  all,  I  just  came  out  to  have  a  little  chat, 
I  am  Irish  sure,  but  that's  no  s*in,  I'm  a  rollicking  merry  Pat; 
The  ladies'  hearts  I  captivate,  as  for  them  my  stick  I  twirl, 
But  Grahmachree,  the  maid  for  me  is  Kitty,  the  Wicklow  girl. 

Chorus — ■ 
For  her  step  is  light,  her  eyes  are  bright,  her  teeth  are  like 

the  pearl, 
Arrah  Grahmachree,  the  maid  for  me  is  Kitty,  the  Wicklow  girl. 

Her  fortune  it  is  but  small  to  him  who  gains  her  hand, 

But  her  heart  is  pure  and  that's  worth  all  the  diamonds  in 

the  land; 
Oh,  had  I  all  the  riches  of  any  great  Lord  or  Earl, 
I  am  very  sure  I  would  still  be  poor  without  me  Wicklow  girl. 

They  may  talk  about  their  Fandangoes  that  the  ladies  hop  in 

France, 
But  let  them  come  to  Wicklow,  they'll  see  a  rale  old  country 

dance ; 
Both  rich  and  poor  they  nettle  the  flure  while  their  Kipp  eens 

they  do  twirl, 
Oh,  my  heart  grows  big  when  I  dance  a  jig  with  Kitty,  the 

Wicklow  girl. 


THE  TWENTY-POUND  DO<J. 

My  name  it  is  Dennis  Mulcahey  and  I  live  in  this  town  of 

renown, 
I  made  a /bet  with  one  Terrence  Mahaffey  that  my  bulldog 

could  wallop  the  town; 
He  said  he  knew  one  Ted  0  'Murphy  that  lived  way  down  below 

in  the  bog, 
Had  an  old  black  and  tan  Irish  terrier  that  would  murder  me 

twenty-pound  dog. 

Chorus — 
Then,  gentjemen,  he  was  a  dandy  until  Murphy,  the  dirty  old 

too' 

Came   along   with   his   terrier   called   Dandy — faith !   he   mur- 
dered me  twenty-pound  dog. 

Then  I  brought  out  my  bold  twenty  pounder  and  he  was  gay 

as  a  king, 
He  eyed  Murphy 's  black  and  tan  terrier  and  then  they  chassede 

68 


'round  the  ring 

They  fought  for  an  hour  and  a  quarter,  way  down  in  Murphy's 

old  bog. 
But  the  terrier  walked  off  with  the  laurels,  while  a  corpse  lay 

my  twenty-pound  dog. 

ore  that  I  would  have  satisfaction  and  I  off  with  me 

coat  and  me  ha 
And  I  went  for  the  whole  Murphy  factjpn  from  big  Ted  down 

to  young  Pat: 
Now  I  own  the  black  and  tan*ter  I  I  drove  them  elean 

out  of  the  b  . 

And  all  the  way  home  I  cried  vengeai  /eance  for  me 

twenty-pound  dog. 


O'BRIEX. 

Oil,  S  mile  of  the  1  morn, 

h  the  curtain  of  night. 
And  the  voire  of  the  nightingale  singing  his  song, 

AVI;  'i  to  sliiue  with  delight. 

.All  nafu]  lingers  in  silent  repose, 

And  the  sweet  breath  of  summer  is  calm, 
Wliil  :•  if  Shamus  e'er  knows 

How  sad  and  unhappy  I  am. 

Chorus — ■ 
Oh,  Shamus  O'Brien,  why  don't  you  come  home, 

You  don't  know  how  happy  I'd  be: 
I  have  but  one  darling  wish  and  that  is  that  you'll  come, 

And  forever  be  happy  with  me. 

I'll  smile  when  you  smile,  I  will  weep  when  you  weep, 

I'll  give  you  a  kiss  for  a  , 
And  all  the  fond  vows  I  have  made  you.  I'll  keep, 

AVhat  more  can  I   |  than  this  ? 

Does  tl  and  such  beautiful  charms, 

That  your  heart  cannot  leave  it  for  me? 
Oh,  why  did  I  let  you  go  out  of  my  arms. 

Like  a  bird  that  was  caged  but  is  free? 

Oh.  Shamus  O'Brien.  I'm  loving  you  yet, 
And  my  heart  is  still  trusting  and  kind. 

It  was  you  who  first  took  it.  then  can  you  forget 
And  love  for  another  you'd  find? 

Oh,  no,  if  you  break  it  with  sorrow  and  pain, 

69 


I'll  then  have  a  duty  to  do, 
If  you  bring  it  to  me  111  mend  it  again, 
And  trust  it,  dear  Shamus,  with  you. 


MY  DAD'S  DINNEK  PAIL. 

Preserve  that  old  kettle  so  blackened  arnl  worn, 
It  belonged  to  trie  Father  before  I  was  born; 
It  hangs  in  the  corner  beyant  on  a  nail. 
It  is  an  emblem  of  labor,  my  dad's  dinner  pail. 

Chorus— 

For  it  glittered  like  silver  so  sparkling  and  bright, 
I  am  fond  of  this  treasure  that  held  the  wee  bit* 
Through  summer  and  winter,  through  snow,  rain  and  hail, 
I've  carried  this  treasure  called  dad's  dinner  pail. 

When  the  bell  rang  for  dinner  me  father  would  come  down, 
And  eat  with  the  workmen  below  on  the  ground; 
He'd  share  with  the  laborer,  on  that  I'll  go  bail, 
You'd  ne'er  find  the  bottom  of  dad's  dinner  pail. 

There  is  a  place  for  the  coffee  and  one  for  the  bread, 
Corn  beef  and  potatoes  and  oft,  it  was  said, 
.Go  fill  it  with  porter,  with  beer  or  with  ale, 
The  sup  would  taste  ■:■•  from  dad's  dinner  pail. 


TWO  IRISH  LABORERS. 

"We  are  two  Irish  laborers,  as  you  can  plainly  see, 

From  Donegal  we  came  when  small  unto  America ; 

"We  got  work  on  the  railroad,  but  sure  it  didn't  pay, 

So  we  struck  a  job  to  carry  the  hod  for  two  and  a  half  a  day. 

Chorus — 
Pat,  be  quick,  bring  up  the  brick,  the  mortar,  too,  likewise, 
Then  push  along  aud  sing  a  song  as  up  the  ladder  you  rise; 
I  always  thought  it  bully  fun  to  be  a  mason's  clerk, 
And  have  the  man  on  top  of  the  house  for  to  do  all  the  work. 

When  we  go  back  to  Ireland,  that  dear  old  Emerald  Isle, 
Where  the  stranger  finds  a  welcome  and  is  greeted  with  a  smilJ, 
Then  if  you  ever  want  a  friend  you  needn't  try  too  hard, 
You'll  always  find  one  in  the  Irish  boys  that  carried  the  hod, 

70 


THE  TRAMP'S  LAMENT. 

I'm  a  broken  down  man  without  or  cash, 

My  clothes  are  all  tattered  and  torn  ■ 
Not  a  friend  in  this  wide  dreary  world  have  I  got. 

And  I  wish  I  had  never  been  born. 
In  vain  I  have  sought  for  employment, 

Sleeping  out  in  the  streets  cold  and  damp, 
I've  been  stared  in  the  face  by  starvatio 

Oh,  pity  the  fate  of  a  tramp. 

Be  f  rain — ■ 
They'tell  me  go  work  for  a  living, 

And  not  through  the  country  to  stamp ; 
But  wherever  I  ask  for  employment. 

Thev  say  they've  no  work  for  a  tramp. 

*r 

The  other  night  coming  down  on  the  "Rock  Island  line, 

A   poor  man.  weary  and  footsore, 
Spied  an  empty  box  car  standing  on  the  track. 

He  jumped  in  and  closed  up  the  door. 
He  had  not  rode  there  hut  three  miles  or  so, 

When  a  brakeman  came  "round  with  his  lamp. 
He  was  thrown  from  the.  box  car  and  killed  by  the  train, 

Because  he  was  only  8  tramp. 

The  rich  man  al  home  by  hissed,  cheery  fire, 

With  plenty  and  bountiful  store, 
And  were  1  to  ask  for  the  crumbs  of  his  board. 

He'd  dog  me  away  from  his  door. 
But,  kind  folks,  if  you'll  listen  a  secret  111  unfold. 

If  s  that  all  poor  men  are  not  scam 
For  there's  many  an  honest  heart  heath 

neath  the  seedy  old  coat  of  a  tramp. 


JENNIE,  THE  FLOWER  OF  KILDAKE. 
dreaming  of  Erin  tonight  and  the  little  white  cot  by  the 

Where  Jennie,  my  darling,  now  dwells;  she's  the  fairest  and 

to  me: 
1  know  that   she  waits   for  me   day   after   day,   and  my  heart 

ever  longs  to  be  there. 
To  greet  her,  my  darling,  mv  own.  sweet  Jennie,  the  flower  of 
Kildare. 

Chorus — 
I  know  that  she  is  waiting  for  me. 

71 


And  my  heart  ever  longs  to  be  there; 
To  greet  her,  my  darling  my  own. 

Sweet  Jennie,  the  Flower  of  Kildare. 

I  am  waiting  her  sweet  face  to  see,  while  parted  I  linger  in  pain, 
But  soon  will  my  heart  beat  with  joy,  o*er  the  sea  I'll  be  sailing 

again ; 
And  once  more  her  sweet  kiss  of  love  to  receive,  for  her  the 

sea  storms  I  would  dare, 
To  greet  her, .my  darling,  my  own,  sweet  Jennie,  the  Flower 

of  Kildare. 


MY  OLD  KENTUCKY  HOME. 

The  snn  shines  bright  in  the  old  Kentucky  home, 

'Tis  summer,  the  darkies  are  gay; 
The  corn-top's  ripe  and  the  meadow's  in  the  bloom. 

While  the  birds  make  mnsic  all  the  day. 
The  young  folks  roll  on  the  little  cabin  floor, 

All  merry,  all  happy  and  bright; 
Bym-by  hard  times  comes  a-knocking  at  the  door, 

Then  my  old  Kentucky  home,  good-night. 

Chorus — 

Weep  no  more,  my  lady.  Oh,  weep  no  more  today! 
We  will  sing  one  song  for  the  old  Kentucky  home, 
For  the  old  Kentucky  home,  far  away. 

They  hunt  no  more  for  the   'possum  and  the  coon, 

On  the  meadow,  the  hill  and  the  shore; 
They  sing  no  more  by  the  glimmer  of  the  moon, 

On  the  bench  by  the  old  cabin  door. 
The  day  goes  by  like  a  shadow  o'er  the  heart, 

With  sorrow  where  all  was  delight; 
The  time  has  come  when  the  darkies  have  to  part, 

Then  my  old  Kentucky  home,  good-night. 

The  head  must  bow  and  the  back  will  have  to  bend, 

Wherever  the  darkey  may  go; 
A  few  more  days,  and  the  trouble  all  will  end, 

In  the  field  where  the  sugar  canes  grow; 
A  few  more  days  for  to  tote  the  weary  load, 

No  matter,   'twill  never  be  light; 
A  few  more  days  till  Ave  totter  on  the  road, 

Then  my  old  Kentucky  home,  good-night. 


DARLING  NELLY  G$ 

1  here's  a  low  ■_  Ley  on  the  old  Kentucky  shore, 

Wl  •  whiled  many  happy  hours  away, 

A-sitting  and  a-singing  by  the  little  cottage  door, 
Where  once  lived  my  darling  Nelly  Gray. 

Chorus — ■ 

Oh,  my  pool-  Xelly  Gray,  they  have  taken  yon  away, 

And  I'll  never  see  my  darling-  any  more, 
I'm  a=sitting  by  the  river  and  I'm  weeping  all  the  da; 
you've  gone  from  the  old  Kentucky  shore. 

When  the  moon  had  climbed  the  mountain,  and  the  stars  were 
ning,  too, 

Then  I'd  take  my  darling  Nelly  Gray, 
And  we'd  float  down  the  river  in  my  little  red  canoe. 

While  my  banjo  so  sweetly  I  would  play. 

are  getting  blinded,  and  I  cannot  see  my  way, 
Hark!      Ti.  tnebody   knocking   at   the   door. 

Oh.  I  hear  1 1  ;,  and  I  see  my  Nelly  Gray, 

swell  to  the  old  Kentucky  shore. 

Oh,  my  darling  Nelly  Gray,  up  in  heaven  there,  they 
That  they'll  never  take  you  from  me  any  more; 

I'm  a-coming — coming — coming,  as  the  angels  clear  the  way. 
Farewell  to  the  old  Kentucky  shore. 


THE  FALLING  OF  THE  PIXE. 

(Square  Timber  Logging) 

Come,  all  young  men  a-wanting  of  courage  bold  undaunted, 
Repair  unto  the  shanties  before  your  youth's  decline, 

For  spectator  ill  ponder  and  gaze  on  you  with  wonder, 

For  your  d  eds  the  thunder  in  the  falling  of  the  pine. 

ition  and  lumbering  our  occupation, 
sere  each  man  has  his  station,  some  for  to  score  and  line, 
It  is  nine  foot  of  a  block  we  will  bust  at  every  knock, 

And  the  wolves,. and  bears  we'll  shock  at  the  falling  of  the 
pine. 

When  the  day  it  is  a-breaking  from  our  slumbers  we're  awak- 
ened, 

Breakfast  being  over,  our  axes  we  will  grind. 
Into  the  woods  we  do  advance  where  our  axes  sharp  do  glance, 

And  like  brothers  we  commence  for  to  fall  the  stately  pine. 

73 


For  it's  to  our  work  we  go  through  the  cold  and  stormy  snow, 
And  it's  there  we  labor  gayly  till  bright  Phoebus  does  not 
shine ; 

Then  to  the  shanties  well  go  in  and  songs  of  love  well  sing, 
And  we'll  make  the  valleys  ring  at  the  falling  of  the  pine. 

When  the  weather  it  grows  colder,  like  lions  we're  more  bolder, 
And  while  this  forms  grief  for  others  it's  but  the  least  of 
mine, 

For  the  frost  and  snow  so  keen,  it  can  never  keep  us  in, 
It  can  never  keep  us  in  from  the  falling  of  the  pine. 

i  the  snow  is  all  diminished  and  our  shanty  work  all  fin- 
ished. 
Banished  we  are  all  for  a  little  time, 
And  then  far  apart  we're  scattered  until  the  booms  are  gathered, 
Until  the  booms  are  gathered  into  handsome  rafts  of  pine. 

When  we  get  to  Quebec,  oh,  me  boys,  well  not  forget, 

And  our  whistles  we  will  wet  with  some  brandy  and  good 
wine ; 

With  fair  maidens  Ave  will  boast  till  our  money  is  all  used, 

And,  my  boys,  well  ne'er  refuse  to  go  back  and  fall  the  pine. 


TWO  LITTEE  GIRLS  IN  BLUE. 

An  old  man  gazed  on  a  photograph  that  he'd  worn  in  his  locket 

for  years. 
His  nephew  asked  him  the  reason  why  that  picture  it  caused 

him  tears: 
"Come  listen,  my  lad,  and  a  story  111  tell,  a  story  that's  strange 

but  true. 
Your  father  and  I  at  school  one  day  met  two  little  girls  in  blue. 

Chorus— 

Two  little  girls  in  blue,  lad,  two  little  girls  in  blue. 

They  were  sisters  and  we  were  brothers  and  learned   to  love 

the  two. 
And  one,  of  those  girls  in  blue,  lad,  had  gained  your  father's 

heart. 
Became  your  mother,  I  married  the  other,  but  we  have  drifted 

apart. 

''That  picture  is  one  of  those  girls,"  he  said,  "and  to  me  she 

was  once  a  wife, 
I  thought  her  unfaithful,  we  quarreled  and  parted  that  night 

for  life ; 


My  fancy  of  jealousy  wronged  a  heart,  a  heart  that  was  good 

.d  true. 
For   two  better  girls  there   never  lived   than  those   two   little 
girls  in  blue." 


ALLANAH  IS  WAITING  FOR  ME. 

I  am  always  light  hearted  and  easy,  not  a  care  in  the  wide  world 

have  I, 

use  I  am  loved  by  a  Ooleeii  I  couldn't  help  like  if  I'd  try; 
She  lives  away  over  the  mountains  where  the  little  thrush 

in  the. tree, 
lu  a  cabin  all  covered,  with  ivy  my  Eileen  is  waiting  for  me. 

Chorus — 
It's  over,  yes  over  the  mountain  where  the  little  thrush  sings 

in  the  tree, 
In  a  cabin  all  covered  with  ivy  my  Eileen  is  waiting  for  me. 

The  day  I  bid  good-bye  to  Eileen,  that  day  I  will  never  forget, 

How  the  tears  bubbled  up  from  their  slumber,  I  fancy  I'm  see- 
ing them  yet; 

They  looked  like  the  pearls  in  the  ocean  as  she  wept  those  tears 
of  love, 

Saying,  i;  Barney,  my  boy,  don't  forget  me  until  we  meet  again 
here  or  above." 

Though  mountains  and  seas  may  divide  us  and  friends  like  the 

flowers  come  and  go, 
Still  these  thoughts  of  my  Eileen  will  cheer  me  and  comfort 

wherever  I  go, 
For  the  imprints  of  love  and  devotion,  surrounded  by  thoughts 

that  are  pure, 
"Will  serve  as  a  guide  to  the  sailor  while  sailing  the  wild  ocean 

o'er. 


BROWN  GIRL. 

When  first  to  this  country  I  came  as  a  stranger, 

I  placed  my  affection  on  a  maid  that  was  young. 

She  being  young  and  tender,  her  waist  small  and  slender. 
Kind  nature  had  formed  her  for  my  overthrow7. 

On  the  bank  of  a  river  where  first  I  beheld  her, 

75 


She  seemed  like  fair  Venus  or  some  other  queen, 
Her  eyes  shone  like  diamonds  Or  stars  brightly  beaming, 
Her  cheeks  like  two  roses  or  blood  upon  snow. 

It  was  her  cruel  parents  that  first  caused  my  ruin,   <* 
Because  they  were  rich  and  above  my  degree, 

But  I  will  do  my  endeavor,  my  fair  one,  to  gain  her, 
Although  she  belongs  to  a  high  family. 

She  says,  "Lovely  Johnny,  don't  be  melancholy, 
If  you  will  be  loyal,  I'll  surely  prove  true, 

There  is  no  other  inferior  that  will  e'er  gain  my  favor, 
On  the  banks  of  a  river  I'll  wander  with  you." 

Xow  since  I  have  gained  her  I  am  contented  forever, 
I'll  put  rings  on  her  fingers  and  gold  in  her  hair, 

With  diamonds  and  pearls' I  will  deck  my  Brown  Girl, 
And  in  all  kinds  of  splendor  I'll  stylo  you,  "My  Dear. 


YANKEE  DOODLE  DANDY. 

I  have  a  daughter  and  you'd  think  she  was  a  lady. 

Her  Christian  name  is  Sarah  Jane,  but  for  short  they  call  her 

Sadie ; 
She  has  a  sweetheart  come  to  see  her  nights,  his  moustache  it  is 

sandy, 
And  the  only  tune  be  whistles  right  is  "Yankee  Doodle  Dandy." 

Chorus — 

Oh,  he  comes  around   'most  every  night  and  brings  her  taffy 

candy, 
And  the  only  tune  he  whistles  right  is  "Yankee  Doodle  Dandy." 

He  brought  her  a  concertina  box  and  she  began  practicing, 
The  music  would  pierce  you  through  and  through,  it  was  really 

agonizing, 
But  if ^  find  him  here  again,  with  him  no  words  I'll  bandy, 
I'll  take  the  poker  and  I'll  smash  this  Yankee  Doodle  Dandy. 


MULCAHY'S  SISTER  KATE. 

You  have  heard  me  sing  of  a  hero  bold,.  Muleahy  was  his  name, 
And,  faith,  he  had  -a  sister,  too,  that  was  noted  for  her  fame; 
She  was  chief  cook  in  a  boarding  house  and  at  making  hash  was 
great, 

76 


She  came  from  the  county  Donegal  and  her  maiden  name  was 
Kate. 

Chorus — 

She  is  tall  and  thin  with  crooked  shins,  her  age  is  twenty-eight, 
Her  face  is  red  and  so  is  the  head  of  Mulcahy's  sister  Kate. 

She  trates  me  like  a  lady  when  her  I  go  to  'see, 

She  takes  me  in  the  parlor  and  serves  me  cake  and  tea, 

And  oft  times  have  I  sat  till  it  was  very  late, 

A -whispering  my  love  stories  to  Mulcahy's  sister  Kate. 


MICHAEL  JAMES. 

I'm  as  happy  as  can  be. 

Faith,  there  is  merriment  in  me, 

And  I'll  try  and  tell  you  every  one; 

"When  I  came  home  from  work  this  morn, 

I  found  I  was  the  father  of  a  son. 

Ten  years  we've  been  married  this  very  day. 

And  we  never  had  a  chick  or  a  child; 

The  thoughts  of  this  gives  me  such  joy, 

Take  me  word  for  it,  I  think  I'm  going  wild. 

Chorus — ■ 
For  he  has  a  puggy  little  nose, 
And  there's  dimples  in  his  toes, 
And  we  're  going  to  give  a  party  and  a  ball ; 
And  we'll  name  him  Michael  James, 
Put  his  picture  in  a  frame, 
And  we'll  hang  it  in  the  parlor  on  the  wall. 

When  a  man  he  grows  you'll  see, 

A  president  he'll  be, 

I  would  never  let  him  run  for  Alderman; 

I'll  buy  a  horse  and  dray, 

d  we'll  drive  it  every  day, 
You  would  never  find  his.  equal  in  the  land. 
He'll  not  be  a  fool,  for  we'll  send  him  off  to  school, 
Where  they'll  teach  him  how  to  row  and  play  ball, 

1  when  he  gets  some  money 
We'll  have  his  picture  taken. 
And  we'll  hang  it  in  the  parlor  on  the  wall. 


77 


MULOAHY'S  HOME  AGAIN, 

I  come  with  news  tonight,  me  boys,  just  listen  for  a  while, 
Me  song  will  bring  delight,  me  boys,  for  it  makes  me  grin  and 

smile ;  \ 
You  have  heard  about  that  famous  man  that  left  us  all  in  pain, 
Sure  he  is  back  at  last  all  safe  and  sound,  Mulcahy's  home  again. 

Chorus — 

For  he's  big  and  stout  and  walks  about  in  a  dress  both  nate 

and  clane, 
Says  I  with  glee,  "Oh,  can  this  be,  Mulcahy's  home  again?" 

I  met  him  down  on  Chambers  street  a  week  ago  today, 
And  when  he  shook  me  by  the  hand  I  thought  I'd  faint  away; 
He  is  big  and  stout  and  he  walks  about  in  a  dress  both  nate 

and  clane, 
Says  I  with  glee,  "Oh,  can  this  be,  Mulcahy's  home  again?" 

He  talks  no  more  of  politics,  he  says  lie  has  had  enough, 

To  stand  their  capers  and  their  tricks  one  must  be  bold  and 

tough  ; 
He  may  have  been  in  foreign  climes,  in  Jersey  or  in  Spain, 
But  what  care  I  where'er  lie's  roamed  when  he  is  safe  at  home 

again. 


LISTEN  TO  THE  MOCKING  BIRD. 

I'm  dreaming  now  of  Hallie, 

Sweet  Hallie,  sweet  Hallie, 

I'm  dreaming  now  of  Hallie, 
For  the  thought  of  her  is  one  that  never  dies; 

She's  sleeping  in  the  valley, 

The  valley,  the  valley, 

She's  sleeping  in  the  valley, 
And  the  mocking  bird  3    singing  where  she  lies. 

Chorus — 

Listen  to  the  mocking  bird, 

Listen  to  the  mocking  bird. 
The  mocking  bird  still  singing  o'er  her  grave 

Listen  to  the  mocking  bird, 

Listen  to  the  mocking  bird, 
Still  singing  where  the  weeping  willows  wave. 

Ah,  well  I  yet  remember, 
Remember,  remember, 


Ah,  well  I  yet  remember, 
When  We  gathered  in  the  cotton,  side  by  side; 

Twas  in  the  mild  September, 

September,   September, 

'Twas  in  the  mild  September, 
And  the  mocking  bird  was  singing'  far  and  wide. 

When  the  charms  of  spring  awaken, 

Awaken,   awaken, 

When  the  charms  of  spring  awaken. 
And  the  mocking  bird  is  singing  on  the  bough, 

I  feel  like  one  forsaken. 

Forsaken,  forsaken, 

I  feel  like  one  forsaken. 
Since  my  Hallie  is  no  longer  with  me  now. 


SEEING  NELLIE  HOME. 

In  the  sky  the  bright  stars  glittered, 
On  the  bank  the  pale  moon  shone; 

And  'twas  from  Aunt  Dinah's  quilting  party, 
I  was  seeing  Nellie  home. 

Refrain — - 
I  was  seeing  Nellie  home, 
I  was  seeing  Nellie  home. 
And  't  n-as  from  Aunt  Dinah's  quilting  party, 
I  was  seeing  Nellie  home. 

On  my  arm  a  soft  hand  rested, 

Rested  light  as  ocean  foam. 
And  'twas  from  Aunt  Dinah's  quilting  party, 

I  was  seeing  Nellie  home. 

On  my  lips  a  whisper  trembled, 
Trembled  till  it  dared  to  come. 

And  'twas  from  Aunt  Dinah's  quilting  party, 
I  was  s  Jellie  home.  ^ 

On  my  life  new  hopes  were  dawnin< 

And  these  hopes     have  liv'd  and  grown, 

And  'twas  from  Aunt  Dinah's  quitting  party, 
I  was  seeing  Nellie  home. 


COME   BACK   TO   ERIN. 

Come  back  to  Erin  Mavourneen,  Mavourneen, 

79 


Come  back  again  to  the  land  of  thy  birth, 
Come  with  the  shamrocks  and  Spring  time,  Mavourneen, 

And  it's  Killarney  will  ring-  with  onr  mirth; 
Sure,  when  we  lent  you  to  beautiful  England, 

Little  we  thought  of  the  long  winter  days, 
Little  we  thought  of  the  hush  of  the  star  shine, 

Over  the  mountains  the  brush  and  the  braes. 

Refrain — 
Come  back  to  Erin,  Mavourneen,  Mavourneen, 

Come  back  again  to  the  land  of  thy  birth, 
Come  with  the  shamrocks  and  spring  time,  Mavouimeen, 

And  it's  Killarney  will  ring  with  our  mirth. 

e 

Over  the  green  seas,  Mavourneen,  Mavourneen, 

Long  shone  the  white  sails  that  bore  thee  away, 
Riding  the  white  waves  that  bright  summer  morning, 

Just  like  a  may  flower  afloat  on  the  bay. 
Oh,  how  my  hearfsank  when  clouds  came  between  us, 

Like  a  gray  mist,  the  rain  falling  down, 
Hid  from  my  sad  eye  the  path  o'er  the  ocean, 

Far,  far  away  where  my  Ooleen  hath  flown. 

Oh,  may  the  angels,  awakin'  or  sleepin',   ' 

Watch  o'er  my  bird  in  the  land  far  away, 
And  it's  my  prayers  will  consign  to  their  keep  in', 

Care  o'  my  jewel  by  night  and  by  day. 
When  by  the  fireside  I  watch  the  bright  embers, 

Then  all  my  thoughts  fly  to  England  and  thee, 
"Wondering  if  my  Coleen  ever  remembers, 

Of  if  ever  h$r  thoughts  are- returning  to  me. 


DENNIS  McGONAGLE'S  DAUGHTER  MARY  ANN. 

I  am  a  dacent  Irishman,  I've  a  daughter  Mary  Ann, 

And  I  try  to  dress  her  hi  the  finest  style; 
She  has  dresses  silk  and  satin,  she  can  paralyze  French  and 
Latin, 

And  you  bet  she  is  so  fresh  she'll  never  spoil. 
When  she  goes  out  on  the  street  every  bummer  tflat  she  meets. 

Oh,  she  tries  to  make  a  mash  on  him  if  she  can, 
And  everywhere  she  goes,  you  can  tell  by  her  tumed-up  nose, 

That  she  is  Dennis  McGonagie's  daughter,  Mary  Ann. 

Chorus — ■ 

She's  a  darling,  she's  a  daisy,  and  she  nearly  has  me  crazy, 

80 


With  a  hand  and  foot  upon  her  like  a  man ; 
And  everywwhere  she  goes  you  can  tell  by  her  turned-up 
That  she's  Dennis  McGonagle's  daughter,  Mary  Ann. 

I  came  home  the  other  night,  sure  the  girl  was  not  in  sight, 

e  left  word  that  she  was  going  to  a  ball, 
Down  to  a  bowerj^  dance,  there  for  to  sing  and  prance, 

That  was  given  by  all  the  bums  in  bowery  hall. 
Oh,  the  gang  it  was  run  in,  and,  faith,  it  was  no  sin, 

They  arrested  every  woman  and  every  man; 
But  they  had  to  let  her  go  just  as  soon  as  she  could  show 

That  she  was  Dennis  McGonagle's  daughter,  Mary  Ann. 


THE   LAMENT   OF   TUB   IRISH   EMIGRANT. 

I  am  sitting  on  the  stile,  Mary,  where  we  sat  side  by  side, 
On  a  bright  May  morning  long  ago,  when  first  you  were  my 

bride ; 
The  corn  was  springing  fresh  and  green  and  the  lark  sang  loud 

on  high, 
And  the  red  was  en  your  cheeks,  Mary,  and  the  love  light  in 

your  ey«. 

nt  a  step  down  yonder  lane,  and  the  little  church  stands 

near, 
The  ehurch  where  we  were  wed,  Mary,  I  see  the  spire  from  here; 
But  the  church  yard  lies  between,  love,  and  my  feet  might  break 

your  rest, 
For  I've  laid  you,  darling,  down  to  sleep  with  your  baby  on 

your  breast. 

I  am  very  lonely  now,  Mary,  for  the  poor  makes  no  new  friends, 
But,  oli,  we  love  them  better  far,  the  few  our  Father  sends; 
But  you  were  all  I  had,  Mary,  my  blessing  and  my  pride, 
e  is  little  left  to  care  for  now  since  my  poor  Mary  died. 

I  am  bidding  you  a  long  farewell,  my  Mary,  kind  and  true, 
But  I'll  not  forget  you,  darling,  in  the  land  I  am  going  to; 
They  say  there's  bread  and  work  for  all  and  the  sun  shines 
•■  there, 
I'll  not  forget  old  Ireland,  were  it  twenty  times  as  fair. 

And  oft  times  in  those  grand  old  woods  I'll  sit  and  close  my 

eyes, 
And  my  thoughts  will  travel  back  again  to  the  grave  where 

Mary  lies; 
And  I'll  think  I  see  the  little  stile  where  we  sat  side  by  side, 
And  the  springing  corn  and  bright  May  morn  when  first  you 

were  my  bride. 

81 


I  WAS  BORN  IN  KILLARNEY. 

I  was  born  in  Killarney  when  I  was  very  young, 

And  that's  the  very  reason  why  the  blarney  is  on  my  tongue; 

Oh,  the  night  was  dark  and  stormy  and  the  rain  came  falling 

down. 
And  the  midwife,  Judy  Carney,  lived  a  long  ways  out  of  town. 
When  me  father  took  the  donkey  out  and  straddled  on  his  back, 
With  old  Judy  on  behind  him  he  very  soon  came  back; 
That  I  was  the  purtiest  baby  all  the  neighbors  did  allow, 
The  girls  would  hug  and  kiss  me  then,  why  don't  they  do  it  now? 

And  then  I  was  as  fine  a  boy,  me  likes  you  ne'er  could  find, 
My  hair  was  black  and  glossy  and  hung  down  in  curls  behind, 
It  was  then  the  girls  would  pick  me  up  and  toss  me  like  a  ball, 
I  wouldn't  let-them  do  it  now  for  fear  they'd  let  me  fall. 
And  when  the  summer  time  wTould  come  and  bathing  did  beg'n, 
Oh,  the  girls  would  put  on  bathing  suits  and  swimming  they'd 

go  in; 
They  would  swim  with  me  upon  their  backs  and  bathe  my  little 

brow, 
I  was  their  little  darling  then,  why  don't  they  do  it  now? 

And  when  I  came  to  cut  my  teeth  I  used  to  cry  all  day. 
'Twas  then  the  girls  would  pity  me,  sure  I  often  heard  them  say, 
"Oh,  bless  his  darling  little  gums,  dear  me,  how  they  must  ache," 
I  would  look  up  in  their  face  and  laugh,  because  I  couldn't 

spake. 
They  would  feed  me  on  the  bottle,  my  poor  mother  died  one  day, 
They  would  ram  it  down  my  throttle  and  I'd  suck  and 

away. 
They  would  rock  me  in  the  cradle  and  if  I'd  kick  up  a  row, 
They  would  take  me  in  to  sleep  with  them,  but  they  never  do 

it  now. 


LONG  SHOREMEN 'S  STRIKE 
I  am  a  dacent  laboring  man  that  works  along  the  shore, 
To  keep  the  hungry  wolf  away  from  the  poor  Ion»  shoreman's 

door; 
I  work  all  day  in  the  broiling  sun  on  ships  that  come  from  sea, 
From  broad  daylight  till  late  at  night  for  the  poor  man's  family. 

Chorus — 

They  give  us  good  pay  for  every  day, 
That  is  all  we'll  ask  of  ye, 
82 


Our  cause  is  right,  we  are  out  upon  a  strike 
For  the  poor  man's  family. 

The  rich  man's  gilded  carriages  with  horses  swift  and  strong, 
If  a  poor  man  asks  for  a  bite  to  eat  they'll  tell  him  he  is  wrong; 
"Go  take  your  shovel  in  your  hand  and  come  out  and  work 

for  me," 
But  die  or  live  they  have  nothing  to  give  to  the  poor  man's 

family. 

They  bring  over  their  Italians  and  Nagurs  from  the  South, 

Thinking  they  can  do  the  work,  take  the  bread  from  out  our 
month ; 

The  poor  man's  children  they  must  starve,  but  to  this  we'll  not 
agree, 

To  be  put  down  like  a  worm  in  the  ground  and  starve  our  fam- 
ily 


MiTJLCAHEY?'S  GONE  AWAY. 

The  hero  of  my  humble  song  was  once  a  mighty  man, 

A  shining  light  in  his  neighborhood,  the  chief  of  all  his  elan, 

But  when   he  found  in  course  of  time  the  tricks  his  friends 

did  play. 
Sure,  he  left   them  all   and  now   they   rry.   "Mulcahey's  gone 

away. ' ' 

Chorus — 
He  was  great  and  grand  and  he  took  command 

Of  the  boys  on  St.  Patrick's  day, 
But  now  the  cry  is  everywhere, 
"Mulcahey's  gone  away." 
He  was  the  greatest  politician  that  ever  filled  a  chair, 
But  he  lost  his  great  position  and  it  drove  him  to  despair; 
We  know  not  where  to  look  for  him,  he  must  have  crossed  the 

"sae," 
It  grieves  us  just  to  think  of  it,  Mulcahey's  gone  away. 

The  girls  went  crazy  when  he  winked,  and  many  an  artful  plan 

They  put  in  operation  to  catch  this  darling  man, 

But  now  they  are  left  alone,  poor  things,  and  they  weep  and 

wail  and  say, 
"Oh,  what  will  we  do  at  all,  at  all,  Mulcahey's  gone  away." 


THE  MAID  OF  THE  LOGAN  BOUGH. 

Come,  all  you  lads  and  lassies,  come  Listen  to  me  now, 

83 


It's  all  about  a  nice  young  man  I  solemnly  do  vow. 
It's  all  about  a  nice  young  man  I  solemnly  do  vow. 
Who  would  toil  both  late  and  early  for  the  maid  of  the  Logan 
Bough. 

Says  he,  "My  pretty  fair  maid,  you  are  the  only  one. 
If  I  could  gain  your  favor  from  your  side  I  ne'er  would  roam." 
She  says,  "Young  men  they  are  so  changeable,  I  am  unpre- 
pared just  now, 
So  I'll  tarry  another  season  at  the  foot  of  the  Logan  Bough." 

Says  he,  "My  pretty  fair  maid,  oh,  how  can  you  say  so, 
Look  down  in  yonder  valley  where  my  crops  do  gently  grow, 
Look  down  in  yonder  valley  at  my  horses  and  my  plow, 
And  they  are  at  their  daily  labor  for  the  maid  of  the  Logan 
Bough." 

"If  they  are  at  their  daily  labor  I'm  sure  it's  not  for  me, 
For  I've  heard  of  your  behavior  and  I  mean  to  tell  to  thee, 
There  is  an  inn  where  you  call  in,  I  hear  the  people  say, 
That  you  rap  and  call  and  pay  for  all  and  go  home  at  the  break 
of  day." 

"'If  I  rap  and  call  and  pay  for  all,  the  money  is  my  own, 
For  I  spend  none  of  your  fortune,  dear,  I  hear  that  you  have 

none ; 
You  thought  I'd  be  alarmed  at  the  meeting  of  you  now, 
But  I'll  leave  yon  where  I  found  you  at  the  foot  of  the  Logan 

Bough." 

So  fill  yo»ur  glasses  to  the  brim  and  let  the  toast  go   'round, 
We'll  drink  success  to  all  the  boys  that  plow  and  sow  the  ground, 
We'll  drink  success  to  all  the  boys,  no  matter  what  they  say, 
And  we'll  rap  and  call  and  pay  for  all  and  go  home  at  break 
of  day! 


I  LOVE  MY  SAILOR  BOY. 

Abroad  as  I  rambled  one  morning  in  May, 

So  carelessly  I  wandered  down  Liverpool's  streets  so  gay, 

I  overheard  a  fair  maid  and  this  was  all  her  cry, 

"And  let  my  friends  say  what  they  will,  I  love  my  sailor  boy." 

"For  he  is  constant  and  true  hearted,  he's  proper,  tall  and  trim, 

No  country  elqwn  or  squire's  son  could  ever  equal  him: 

He  is  crossing  the  wide  ocean  now  where  the  tempests  loud  do 

roar, 
My  bl  they  attend  him,  he's  the  lad  I  do  adore." 

84 


Then  up  spoke  her  mother,  those  words  to  her  did  say, 
/'You  are  but  a  young  and  foolish  girl,  take  counsel  now,  I  pray, 
Forsake  your  tarry  sailor,  he'll  rove  from  shore  to  shore, 
Leave  his  sweetheart  broken  hearted'liave  wives  on  every  shore. 

"Then  wed  a  steady  farmer's  son  that  whistles  at  the  plow, 
And  then  you  will  have  time  enough  to  mind  both  sheep  and 

cows, 
But  your  sailor  he'll  carouse  and  drink  whenever  he  comes  on 

shore, 
And  when*  his  money  is  spent  and  gone  he'll  sail  the  seas  for 

more. 

"A  fig  for  all  your  farmer  sons,  such  lovers  I  disdain, 
There  is  not  one  among  them  dare  face  the  raging  main, 
^\nd  when  the  winds  are  howling  and  the  billows  are  wThite  as 

snow,  * 

T  "11  venture  my  life  with  the  lad  that  dare  go  where  the  stormy 

winds  do  blow." 


FAIR  FANNY  MOOR. 

It  is  down  by  yonder  cottage  all  desolate  and  forlorn, 
Where  the  walks  they  are  surrounded  and  by  green  overgrown; 
Step  in  and  you  will  see  it  in  dark  stains  on  the  floor, 
Alas,  it  is  the  blood  of  the  Fair  Fanny  Moor. 

It  is  of  two  young  lovers,  to  Fanny  they  came, 
They  courted  and  adored  her,  enraptured  were  they; 
The  first  was  young  Reynolds  of  higher  degree, 
He  courted  and  adored  her,  enraptured  was  he, 
But  his  wealth  and  his  riches  had  no  power  to  allure, 
The  love  burning  bosom  of  the  fair  Fanny  Moor. 

The  next  was  young  Rogers  of  lower  degree, 
He  courted  and  adored  her,  enraptured  was  he; 
He  led  up  to  the  altar,  made  firm  and  secure, 
The  life  and  the  love  of  the  fair  Fanny  Moor. 

Fanny  was  sitting  in  her  cottage  one  day, 
Some  business  having  called  her  fond  husband  away, 
Young  Reynolds,  the  haughty,  steps  in  on  the  floor, 
And  he  clasped  in  his  arms  the  fair  Fanny  Moor. 

"Now,  Fanny,  dear  Fanny,- be  resigned  to  your  fate, 
Incline  to  my  wishes  before  you  are  too  late, 
For  there  is  one  thing  or  the  other  I  am  determined  to  secure, 
That's  the  life  or  the  love  of  the  fair  Fanny  Moor." 

85  *  y 


"Oh,,  spare  me,  Oh,  spare  me!"  young  Fanny  she  cried, 
"Oh,  spare  me,  oh,  spare  me,  I  am  not  prepared  to  die." 
But  he  paid  no  heed  to  her  dying'  request, 
And  he  buried  his  knife  in  the  fair  Fanny's  breast. 

Young  Reynolds  all  blood  stained  was  taken  and  tried, 
Young  Fanny  all  blooming  in  beauty  she  died ; 
Young  Reynolds  was  hung  on  the  tree  by  the  door, 
For  taking-  the  life  of  the  fair  Fanny  Moor. 


KATIE  O'DONAHIE. 

Oh,  me  name  it  is  McGuire  and  I'll  quickly  tell  to  you, 
A  pretty  girl  I  admire  named  Katie  0 'Donahue; 
She's  rosy,  fat  and  hearty,  now  mind  me  what  I  say, 
And  every  night  when  I  go  to  her  house  the  ould  woman  will 
joyfully  say, 

"Paddy,  git  up  from  the  fire  and  give  that  man  a  sate, 
Don't  you  see  it's  Mr,  McGuire,  that's  courtin'  your  sister  Kate, 
You  know  right  well  he  has  a  farm  a  little  ways  out  of  town, 
So  git  up  out  of  that,  you  impudent  brat,  and  let  Mr.  McGuire 
*    sit  down." 

The  first  time  that  I  met  this  girl  she  was  dancing  the  Tra-la-le, 
And  though  I  was  a  stranger  then  she  grew  very  fond  of  me ; 
She  "axed'*  me  if  I  would  see  her  home  and  with  her  take 

some  "tay," 
And  the  very  moment  we  got  in  the  house  the  ould  woman  did 

joyfully  say, 

"Paddy,"  git  up  from  the  fire  and  give  that  man  a  sate, 
Don't  you  see  it's  Mr.  McGuire,  that's  courtin'  your  sister  Kate, 
You  know  right  well  he  has  a  farm  a  little  ways  out  of  town, 
So  git  up  out  of  that,  you  impudent  brat,  and  let  Mr.  McGuire 
sit  clown." 


THE  GIRL  I  LOVED  IN  SUNNY  TENNESSEE. 

On  a  morning  bright  and  clear, 

To  my  old  home  I  drew  near, 
Just  a  village  down  in  sunny  Tennessee ; 

I  was  speeding  on  a  train 

That  would  take  me  back  again, 
To  my  sweetheart  who  was  waiting  there  for  me. 

86 


It  had  been  but  few  short  years 

Since  I  "d  kissed  away  her  tears, 
And  I  left  her  at  my  dear  old  mother's  side, 

And  each  day  we've  been  apart, 

She's  grown  dearer  to  my  heart, 
Than  the  night  I  asked  of  her  to  be  my  bride. 

lu  train — 
You  could  hear  the  darkies  singing, 

As  she  said  farewell  to  me, 
Far  across  the  fields  of  cotton 

My  old  homestead  I  could  see; 
When  the  moon  rose  in  its  glory, 
Then  I  told  life's  sweetest  story 

To  the  girl  I  loved  in  sunny  Tennessee. 

When  the  train  drew  up  at  last, 

Old  familiar  scenes  I  passed, 
And  I  kissed  my  mother  at  the  station  door, 

And  when  old  friends  gathered  'round, 

Tears  on  every  cheek  I  found, 
And  I  missed  the  one  that  I'd  been  longing  for. 

As  I  whispered,  ".Mother,  dear, 

Where  is  Mary?"'    She's  not  here," 
Then  this  world  seemed  lost  and  sadness  came  to  me, 

For  she  pointed  to  a  spot 

In  the  churchyard's  little  lot, 
Where  my  sweetheart  sleeps  in  sunny  Tennessee. 


SHANTY  MAX'S  LIFE; 

A  shanty  man's  life  is  a  wearisome  one, 

Although  some  say  it's  free  from  care, 
It's  the  swinging  of  an  axe  from  morning  till  night, 

In  the  forest  wild  and  drear, 

Or  sleeping  in  the  shanties  dreary 

When  the  winter  winds  do  blow, 
But  as  soon  as  the  morning  star  does  appear, 

To  the  wild  woods  we  must  go. 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  our  old  greasy  cook  calls  out, 

"Hurrah,  boys,  for  it's  day,'' 
And  from  broken  slumber  we  are  aroused, 

For  to  pass  away  the  long  winter's  day. 

Transported  as  we  are  from  the  maiden  so  fair, 
»  87 


To  the  banks  of  some  lonely  stream^ 
"Where  the  wolf,  bear  and  owl  with  their  terrifying  howl, 

Disturb  our  nightly  dreams. 

i 
Transported  from  the  glass  and  the  smiling  little  lass, 

Our  life  is  long  and  drear; 
No  friend  in  sorrow  nigh  for  to  check  the  rising  sigh, 

Or  to  wipe  away  the  briny  tear. 

Had  we  ale,  wine  or  beer  our  spirits  for  to  cheer, 

"While  we're  in  those  woods  so  wild, 
Or  a  glass  of  whiskey  shone  while  we  are  in  the  woods  alone, 

For  to  pass  away  our  long  exile. 

"When  spring  it  does  come  in  double  hardship  then  begins, 

For  the  water  is  piercing  cold: 
Dripping  wet  will  be  our  clothes  and  our  limbs  they  are  half 
froze. 

And  our  pike  poles  we  scarqe  can  hold. 

0  'er  rocks,  shoals  and  sands  give  employment  to  old  hands, 

And  our  well  bended  raft  we  do  steer, 
Oh,  the  rapids  that  we  run,  they  seem  to  us  but  fun, 

"We're  the  boys  of  all  slavish  care. 

Shantying  I'll  give  o'er  when  I'm  landed  safe  on  shore, 

And  I'll  lead'  a  different  life, 
No  longer  will  I  roam,  but  contented  stay  at  home, 

With  a  pretty  little  smiling  wife. 


THERE'S  A  GIRL  IN  THE  HEART  OF  MARYLAND. 

In  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  garden  in  a  quaint,   old-fashioned 

town, 
'Mid  roses  pink  and  white,  and  red  there  blooms  the  rose  I 

mean  to  wed: 
"Where  the  old  Patomac's  flowing,  that  is  where  I  long  to  be, 
And  tomorrow  I -am  going  to  the  girl  who  waits  for  me. 

Chorus — ■ 
There's  a  girl  in  the  heart  of  Maryland,  with   a  heart  that 

"belongs  to  me, 
As  I  told  her  of  my  love  the  oriole  above  sang  from  the  old 

apple  tree. 
Then  Maryland   was   fairyland,   for  she   promised    my    bride 

she'd  be, 
There's  a  girl  in   the  heart  of  Maryland  with   a  heart  that 

belongs  to  me. 

88 


Set  the  village  church  bells  ringing,  tell  the  organist  to  learn 
That  melody  of  Mendelssohn  they  play  when  they  make  two 

folks  0] 
•e   tomorrow   we'll   be   married — oh,    there's   one   thing   I 

forgot — 
Have  the  parson  ready  waiting  at  the  church  to  tie  the  knot. 


T  ON  Yol'R  OLD  GRAY  BONNET. 

On  the  old  farmhouse  veranda  there  sat  Silas  and  Miranda, 

Thinking-  of  the  days  gone  by; 
Said  he,  "Dearie,  don't  be  weary,  you  were  always  light  and 
ehf 

But  a  tear,  dear,  dims  your  eye." 
Said  she,  "They're  tears  of  gladness,  Silas,  they're  not  tears 
of  sadr. 

It  is  fifty  years  today  since  we  were  wed. " 
Then  the   old  man's   dim   eyes  brightened,   and  his  stern   old 

heart  it  lightened. 

As  he  turned  to  her  and  said: 

Chorus — 
"Put  on  your  old  gray  bonnet  with  the  blue  ribbon  on  it, 

-    While  I  hitch  old  Dobbin  to  the  shay, 
And  through  the  fields  of  clover  we'll  drive  up  to  Dover, 
On  our  golden  wedding  day." 

It  was  the  same  old  bonnet  with  the  same  blue  ribbon  on  it, 

In  the  old  shay  by  his  side, 
That  he  drove  her  up  to;  Dover  thro'  the  same  old  fields  of 
clover. 
To  become  his  happy  bride;" 
The  birds  were  sweetly  singing,  and  the  same  old  bells  were 
ringing, 
As  they  passed  the  quaint  old  church  where  they  were  wed, 
And  that  night  when  starai  were  gleamin'  the  old  couple  lay 
a-dreamin ', 
Dreaming  of  the  words  he  said. 


WHEN  McGKJINESS  GETS  A  JOB. 

Last  winter  was  a  hard  one,  Mrs.  Riley,  did  you  say 
Faith,  myself  it  is  that  knows  it  for  many  a  long  day; 
Your  old  man  wasn't  the  only  one  that  sat  behind  the  wall, 

*B9 


There  was  my  old  man  MeGuiness  didn't  get  a  job  at  all. 
The  contractors  they  promised  him  work  on  the  boulevard, 
To  handle  the  pick  and  shovel  and  throw  dirt  on  the  car; 
Six  weeks  ago  they  promised  him  that  work  he'd  surely  get, 
But  believe  me,  my  .good  woman,  they're  promising  him  yet. 

Chorus — 
Then  cheer  up,  Mrs.  Riley,  don't  give  way  to  the  blues, 
You  and  I  will  cut  a  shine  with  bonnets  and  new  shoes, 
And  as  for  me  I  have  done  a-sighing,  no  more  I'll  cry  or  sob, 
But  I'll  wait  till  times  get  better  and  MeGuiness  gvets  a  job. 

The  Italians,  devil  take  them,  why  don't  they  stay  at  home? 
Sure,  we  have  enough  of  our  own  sort  to  eat  up  all  our  own; 
f  hey  come  like  bees  in  summer  and  in  winter  they  go  away, 
The  contractors  hire  hundreds  for  sixty  cents  a  clay; 
They  work  upon  the  railroad,  they  shovel  dirt  and  slush, 
But  there  is  one  thing  in  their  favor,  Italians  never  lush; 
They  always  bring  their  money  home,  they  drink  no  beer  or 

wine, 
And  that's  something  I  woidd  like  to  say  about  your  old  man 

and  mine, 

The  spring  time  is  coming  and  soon  we'll  all  get  work, 
MeGuiness  will  go  back  to  his  trade,  sure  he's  a  handsome  clerk: 
You  should  see  him  climb  the  ladder,  as  nimble  as  a  fox, 
Faith,  he's  the  boy  that  can  juggle  tire  old  three-cornered  box; 
The  boss  lie's  always  bawling,  "Hi  there,  don't  you  stop, 
Keep  your  eyes  upward,  don't  let  no  mortar  drop." 
My  old  man  is  very  careful,  nothing  he  e'er  lets  fall, 
And  damn  the  word  you'd  hear  him  say  to  my  old  man  at  all. 


FAREWELL  TO  CALEDONIA. 

My  name  is  Willie  Rajirarn,  in  Glasgow  I  was  born, 
The  place  of  my  residence  I  was  forced  to  leave  in  scorn; 
From  home  and  habitation  wras  forced  to  gang  awa', 
So  fare-you-well,  you  hills  and  dales  of  Caledonia. 

The  crime  that  I  was  taken  for  was  robbery  and  fraud, 
I  lay  the  blame  on  nae  one  upon  this  earthly  sod; 
I  lay  the  blame  on  nae  one,  but  comrades  I  had  twa, 
So  fare-you-well,  the  hills  and  dales  of  Caledonia. 

It  was  early  the  next  morning  before  the  break  of  day, 
Our  turnkey  came  to  us,  those  words  to  us  did  say, 
"Rise  up,  you  pitiful  convicts,  I  warn  you  one  and  a', 
This  day  you  leave  the  hills  and  dales  of  Caledonia." 

90 


Then  I  arose,  put  on  my  clothes,  my  heart  was  filled  with  grief, 
My  friends  they  gathered  around  me,  but  could  grant  me  no 

relief: 
They  bound  me  down  in  irons  for  fear  I'd  run  awa', 
So  fare-vou-well,  you  hills  and  dales  of  Caledonia. 


Here  is  to  my  old  father,  he  is  one  of  the  best  of  men, 

And  also  to  my  own  true  love,  Catharina  is  her  name, 

No   more   we   will    roam   by    Cylde's    green   banks    or   by    the 

brim  awa'. 
This  day  I  leave  the  hills  and  dales  of  Caledonia. 

Lbye  to  my  old  mother,  I  am  sorry  for  what  I  have  done, 
1  hope  it  ne'er  will  be  cast  to  her  the  race  that  I  have  run; 
1  hope  the  Lord  will  protect  her  when  I  am  far  awa\ 

are-vou-well.  you  hills  and  dales  of  Caledonia. 


UBIES  OX  OUR  BLOCK. 

If  you  long  for  information  or  in  need  of  merriment, 
Come  over  with  me  socially  to  Murphy's  tenement, 
For  he  owns  a  row  of  houses  in  the  Fourth1  ward  near  the  dock, 
Where  Ireland  is  represented  by  the  babies  on  our  block. 

Chorus — ■ 

There's  the  Whalens  and  the  Phalens  from  sweet  Dondohertye, 
A-sitting  on  the  railing  with  their  babies  on  their  knee, 
All  gossiping  and  talking-  with  children  by  the  flock, 
Singing  ''Little  Sally  Waters"  to  the  babies  on  our  block. 

On  a  warm  day  in  summer  when  the  breeze  comes  off  the  sea, 

Five  hundred  little  children  lie  on  the  battery, 

They  come  from  Murphy's  building  and  their  noise  would  stop 

a  clock, 

•!ng  ''Little  Sally  Waters"  to  the  babies  on  our  block. 

Chorus — ■ 

There's  the  Nolans  and  the  Dolans.  from  the  Black  Water  Side, 
All  sitting  on  the  battery  a-gazing  at  the  tide, 
All  neighborly  and  friendly,  with  relations  by  the  flock, 
ring,  "Little  Sally  Waters''  to  the  babies  on  our  block. 

"Good  morning  to  you,  landlord,''  you'll  hear  them  all  to  say, 
As  Patrick  Murphy,  Esquire,  comes  down  the  alleyway, 
With  his  shining  silk  and  beaver  he's  as  solid  as  a  rock, 
The  envy  of  all  the  neighboring  boys  a-living  in  the  block. 

91 


Chorus — 

There's  the  Shannons  and  the  Brannans,  Fardowns  and  Con- 
naught  men, 
So  aisy  with  the  shovel  and  handy  with  the  pen, 
All  royal  blood  and  noble  of  the  Dan  O'Connell  stock, 
Singing,  "Little  Sally  Waters"  to  the  babies  on  our  block. 

"Little  Sally  Waters  sitting  in  the  sun, 

Sighing,  crying  for  a  young  man; 

Rise,  Sally,  rise — wipe  your  eyes  out  with  your  frock," 

Is  sung  by  all  the  babies  a-living  in  our  block. 


O'BRIEN  WITH  HIS  HIGH-WATER  PANTS. 

My  name  is  O'Brien  from  Harlem, 

I  am  an  Irishman  as  you  may  see; 
I  can  sing  like  a  thrush  or  a  starling, 

Of  the  little  bird  up  in  a  tree. 
But  the  gang  standing  there  on  the  corner, 

They  are  trying  the  steps  and  the  dance, 
And  they  cry  out  whenever  I'm  passing, 

"There  is  O'Brien  with  his  hi°[h- water  pants." 

Chorus — 
They  tell  me  go  over  to  England, 

And  pay  a  short  visit  to  France, 
And  there  to  bring  out  me  new  fashion, 

And  call  them  the  high-wrater  pants. 

Last  night  sure  I  went  to  the  theater, 

Along  with  my  first  cousin  Dan; 
We  hired  a  sate  in  the  parka, 

Behind  the  big  marfin  the  band;     . 
When  a  nager  came  out  with  a  banjo, 

He  played  up  a  Highland  clog  dance, 
And  he  gave  out  a  gag  and  conundrum 

About  O'Brien  and  his  high- water  pants. 

Last  week  I  walked  down  on  the  bowery, 

Along  with  me  friend,  Paddy  Brock, 
We  just  dropped  into  Geoghan's, 

To  git  a  drink  of  his  rye  and  rock, 
When  the  gang  all  cried,  "There's  Dan  O'Leary," 

The  bartender  shot  me  a  glance, 
"Howld  your  tongue  then,"  says  he  to  the  loafers, 

That's  O'Brien  with  his  high-water  pants." 

92 


McCARTY'S  WIDOW. 

It's  just  a  year  ago  today  I  took  to  me  a  wife, 
And  ever  since  she's  proved  to  be  the  burden  of  my  life; 
She  is  the  widow  of  McCarty,  McCarty  was  her  name, 
And  for  changing  it  to  Riley,  sure's  myself  I  am  to  blame. 
She  spakes  about  McCarty  and  his  virtues  every  day, 
And  wishes  I'd  keep  sober  and  be  like  him  every  way; 
She'd  bate  him  with  the  broomstick  every  time  the  baby  cried, 
And  made  him  rock  the  cradle  until  from  cruelty  he  died. 

Chorus — 
She'd  lick  him,  she'd  kick  him,  she'd  never  let  him  be, 
She'd  lash  him,  she'd  smash  him,  until  he  couldn't  see; 
But  McCarty  wasn't  hearty,  now  she's  got  a  different  party, 
She  might  have  licked  McCarty,  but  she  can't  lick  me. 

I  am  going  down  to  Grady's  now  on  purpose  to  get  tight, 
And  when  I  do  come  home  again  there's  going  to  be  a  fight; 
I'll  break  up  all  the  furniture  before  I  do  get  through,  < 

ve  when  I  go  in,  it's  the  first  thing  that  I'll  do; 
And  then  there  is  a  difference  'twixt  two  men  she  will  see, 
I'll  show  her  then  who  is  the  best,  McCarty  then  or  me, 
And  perhaps  she  will  behave  herself  and  learn  to  shut  her  mouth, 
For  if  she  puts  me  into  jail  she'll  have  to  get  me  out. 

Chorus — ■ 

For  I'll  lick  her,  I'll  kick  her,  I'll  never  let  her  be, 

I'll  lash  her,  I'll  smash  her,  until  she  cannot  see; 

But  McCarty  wasn't  hearty,  now  she  has  got  a  different  party, 

She  might  have  licked  McCarty,  but  she  can't  lick  me. 


WHEN  YOU  AND  I  WERE  YOUNG,  MAGGIE. 

I  wandered  today  to  the  hills,  Maggie, 

'  To  watch  the  scenes  below, 
Tlie  creek  and  the  creaking  old  mill,  Mag 

As  we  used  to  so  long  ago. 
The  green  grass  has  gone  from  the  hills,  Maggie, 

Where  first  the  daisies  sprung: 
The  creaking  old  mill  is  still.  Mag 

Since  you  and  I  were  young. 

Chorus — 

But  now  we  are  aged  and  gray,  Maggie, 
The  trials  of  life  are  nearly  done; 

93 


Let  us  sing:  of  the  days  that  are  gov 
When  you  and  I  were  young'. 
A  city  so  silent  and  lone,  MJaggie, 

Where  the  young  and  the  gay  and  the  best 
In  polished  white  mansions  of  stone,  Maggie, 

Have  each  found  a  place  of  rest: 
It  was  built  where  the  birds  used  to  play.  Ma 

And  joined  in  a  song  that  we  had  sun 
But  we  sang  as  gay  as  they,  Maggie, 

When  you  and  I  were  young'. 

They  say  I  am  feeble  and  old,  Maggie, 

My  step  is  less  sprightly  than  then. 
My  face  is  a  well  written  page,  Maggie, 

But  time  alone  was  the  pen. 
But  now  we  are  feeble  and  gray,  Maggie, 

Like  spray  from  the  wild  breakers  flung, 
But  to  me  you're  as  fair  as  the  day,  Maggie, 

When  vou  and  I  were  young. 


SWEET  SILVER  LIGHT  OF  THE. MOON. 

As  I  strayed  from  my  cot  at  the  close  of  the  day, 

To  muse  on  the  beauties  of  June, 
Beneath  the  jessamine  sljade  I  espied  a  fair  maid, 

And  she  sadly  complained  to  the  moon. 

II  cf  rain — ■ 
Roll  on,  silver  moon,  guide  the  traveler  on  his  way, 

While  the  nightingale's  song  is  in  tune. 
But  it's  never,  never  more  with  my  true  love  I'll  stray. 

By  the  sweet  silver  light  of  the  moon. 

Like  the  hart  on  the  mountain  my  lover  he  was  brave, 
He  was  handsome  and  manly  to  view ; 

He  was  kind  and  sincere  and  he  loved  me  most  dear, 
Oh,  Edward,  no  love  was  more  true. 

But  now  he  is  dead  and  the  youth  once  so  gay. 
Is  cut  down  like  a  rose  in  full  bloom,  . 

And  he  silently  sleeps  while  I  am  thus  left  to  weep,, 
B}   the  sweet  silver  light  of  the  moon. 

But  his  grave  I'll  seek  out  and  till  morning  appears 

I  will  weep  for  my  lover  so  brave : 
I'll  embrace  the  cold  earth  and  bedew  with  my  tears 

The  flowers  that  bloom  o'er  his  grave. 
94 


VANDIEMENS  LAND. 

:e,  all  you  lads  of  pleasure  and  rambling  boys  beware, 
"Whenever  you  go  bunting-  with  your  hounds,  your  gun  and 

■  re? 
Whenever  you  go  a-lmnting  with  the  vallies  at  your  command, 
Think  of  the  tedious  journey,  boys,  going  to  Vandiemens  Land. 

was  Joe  Brown  from  Nottingham,  Jack  Williams  and 

•lack  Jones, 
were  three  as  jolly  fellows,  so  well  their  country  knows; 
They  were  taken  one  night  near  the  bay,  all  with  their  gun  in 

hand, 
And  for  fourteen  years  transported  unto  Vandiemens  Land. 

:irl  from  Nottingham,  Sally  Simons  was  her  name, 
For  seven  years  transported  for  carrying  on  the  game; 
Our  Captain  bought  her  freedom  and  he  married  her  off  hand, 
She  gave  us  good  usage  going  to  Vandiemens  Land. 

The  landing  port  we  went  to  was  on  a  foreign  shore, 
The  planters  they  surrounded  us,  full  a  score  or  more, 
They  yoked'  us  up  like  horses  and  sold  us  out  off  hand, 
And  they  hitched  us  to  the  plow,  me  boys,  to  plow  Vandiemens 
Land. 

The  houses  that  $hey  built  for  us  was  made  of  sods  and  clay, 
The  1  leep  on  were  made  of  rotten  hay: 

i  hay  for  beds,  me  boys,  and  slumber  if  you  can, 
Oh,  i  orst  usage  while  on  Vandiemens 

Land. 

Last  night  as  I  lay  down  to  sleep  I  had  a  pleasant  dream, 
T  dreamt  I  was  back  in  Ireland,  down  by  a  purling  stream, 
"With  my  Irish  girl  beside  me  and  her  at  my  command, 
But  when  I  awoke  my  heart  was  broke,  off  on  Vandiemens  Land. 


OX  BOARD  THE  VICTORY. 

I  am  a  noble  lady,  my  fortune  it  is  great. 

My  tongue  is  scarcely  able  my  anguish  to  relate, 

For  the  loving  of  a  young  man  who  proved  so  dear  to  me, 

He  is  plowing  the  stormy  ocean  now  on  board  the  Victory. 

* 

I  kept  my  true  love's  company  for  better  than  three  years, 
He  swore  and  vowed  he'd  marry  me,  I  know  he  was  sincere, 
But  now,  alas,  from  lie  he  has  gone,  the  Lord  only  knows  how  far, 
He  has  been  impressed  in  to  serve  the  queen  on  board  a  man- 
of  war. 

95 


My  father  sent  the  press  gang,  they  did  my  love  surround, 
And  seven  of  those  cowardly  dogs  he  lay  bleeding  on  the  ground. 
But  he  was  overpowered,  he  fought  right  manfully, 
But  was  forced  to  yield  and  quit  the  field,  go  on  board  the 
'Victory. 

The  reason  why  they  slight  my  love  is  because  that  he  is  poor, 
And  oft  times  they  have  scorned  him  while  passing  by  their 

door ; 
But  had  he  come  of  noble  birth  and  I  of  low  degree, 
They  ne'er  would  send  the  lad  I  love  on  board  the  Victory. 

Last  night  as  I  lay  sleeping,  a-taking  of  my  rest, 
The  thoughts  of  my  true  lover  disturbed  my  wounded  breast; 
I  thought  that  I  was  enjoying  my  true  love's  company, 
That  I  was  with  him  all  alone  on  board  the  Victory. 

NowT  since  I  cannot  gain  him,  the  lad  that  I  adore, 
It  will  be  my  occupation,  now  and  forevermore, 
It  is  for  his  safe  protection  my  daily  prayers  shall  be, 
All- joy  attend  my  own  true  love  on  board  the  Victory. 


ELLA  REE. 

There  is  Ella  Ree,  so  dear  to  me, 

She's  gone  forevermore, 
Her  home  was  down  in  Tennessee 

Before  the  cruel  war. 

Chorus— 
Then  carry  me  back  to  Tennessee, 

There  let  me  live  and  die, 
Among  the  fields  of  yellow  corn, 

In  the  land  where  Ella  lies. 

Oh,  why  did  I  from  day  to  day,  x- 

Keep  sighing  to  be  free, 
And  from  my  master  run  away, 

And  leave  poor  Ella  Ree? 

The  summer  moon  will  rise  and  fall, 

The  tune  birds  sing  their  lay. 
And  the  'possum  and  the  coon  will  softly  tread 

O'er  the  grave  of  Ella  Ree.  * 

But  now  the  cruel  war  is  o'er, 

And  the  colored  folks  are  free,     ^ 

And  the  good  old  times  will  come  again, 
Way  down  in  Tennessee. 
96 


WHEN  I  DREAM  OF  OLD  ERIN. 

When  the  nightingale's  singing  its  sweet  melodies, 
And  the  scent  of  the  flowers  perfumes  the  night  breeze, 
Then  I  dream  of  my  old  home  far  over  the 
By  the  Lake  of  Killarney.  where  I  long  to  be. 
And  I  see  yon,  it  seems,  waiting  there  on  the  shore, 
"Where  together  we  stray 'd  in  the  sweet  days  of  yore; 
I  am  thinking  tonight  of  my  Colleen  so  true, 
When  I  dream  of  Old  Erin.  I'm  dreaming  of  you. 

Refrain — 
When  I  dream  of  Old  Erin  I'm  dreaming  of  you. 
With  your  sweet,  roguish  smile  and  your  true  eyes  of  blue; 
For  my  love,  like  the  shamrock,  each  day  stronger  grew, 
When  I  dream  of  old  Erin,  I'm  dreaming  of  you. 

I  can  see  the  old  cottage,  just  o'er  the  hill  there, 
'Tis  those  fond  recollections  bring  happiness  rare, 
•   Sure,  the  lassie  I  love  with  a  heart  that  is  true, 
She  is  waiting  for  someone,  while  someone  waits,  too : 
And  my  love's  growing  stronger  each  day,  more  and  more, 
'Tis  the  same  old  love  story  that's  told  o'er  and  o'er; 
So,  Acushla  my  Colleen,  it  seems  that  you  knew, 
When  I  dream  of  Old  Erin.  I'm  dreaming  of  you. 


WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 

Oh,  Paddy,  dear,  and  did  you  hear  the  news  that's  going  'round? 
The  shamrock  is  forbid  by  law  to  grow  on  Irish  ground; 
Saint  Patrick's  day  no  more  we'll  keep,  his  color  can't  be  seen, 
For  there's  a  bloody  law  agin'  the  Wearin'  o'  the  Green. 
I  met  with  Napper  Tandy  and  he  tuk  me  by  the  hand, 
And  he  said,   "How's  poor  ould  Ireland,  and  how  does  she 

stand  ? " 
sShe's  the  most  distressful  country  that  ever  you  have  seen, 
They're  hanging  men  and  women  there  for  wearing  of  the  green. 

Then  since  the  color  we  must  wear  is  England's  cruel  red, 
Sure,  Ireland's  sons  will  ne'er  forget  the  blood  that  they  have 

shed ; 
You  may  take  the  shamrock  from  vour  hat.  and  east  it  on  the 

sod, 
But  'twill  take  root  and  flourish  still,  tho'  under  foot  'tis  trod; 
When  the  law  can  stop  the  blades  of  grass  from  growing  as 

they  grow, 

97 


And  when  the  leaves  in  summer  time  their  verdure  dare  not 

show, 
Then  I  will  change  the  color  I  wear  in  my  caubeen, 
But  till  that  day,  please  God,  I'll  stick  to  wearing  of  the  green. 

But  if  at  last  our  color  should  be  torn  from  Ireland's  heart, 
Her  sons  in  shame  and  sorrow  from  the  dear  old  soil  will  part, 
I've  heard  whisper  of  a  country  that  lies  far  beyant  the  sety, 
"Where  rich  and  poor  stand  equal  in  the  light  of  freedom's  day ; 
Oh,  Erin,  must  we  lave  you,  driven  by  a  tyrant's  hand, 
Must  we  seek  a  mother's  welcome  from  a  strange  but  happy 

land ! 
Where  the  cruel  cross  of  England's  thraildom  never  shall  be 

seen, 
-And  where,  in  peace,  we '11  live  and  die,  a-wearing  of  the  green. 


JOE  BOWERS. 

My  name  it  is  Joe  Bowers  and  I  've  got  a  brother  Ike, 
I  came  from  old  Missouri,  yes,  all  the  way  from  Pike, 
And  why  I  left  that  pretty  place  I'll  tell  you  in  my  song, 
And  if  you'll  pay  attention  I'll  not  detain  you  long. 

When  I  was  there  I  courted  a  prettv  fair  maid,  her  name  was 

Sally  Black, 
1  asked  her  if  she'd  marry  me,  she  said  it  was  a  whack; 
Said  she  to  me,  ''Joe  Bowers,  before  we  hitch  for  life, 
You  want  to  get  a  little  home  for  to  keep  your  little  wife." 

' '  1 11  do  it,  dearest  Sally,  I  '11  do  it  for  your  sake, 

I'll  go  to  California  and  I'll  try  to  raise  a  stake." 

Said  she  to  me,  "Joe  Bowers,  you  are  just  the  man  to  win, 

Here 's  a  kiss  to  bind  the  bargain, ' '  and  she  hove  a  dozen  in. 

"When  I  got  to  California  I  hadn't  nary  a  red, 
I  had  such  wolfish  feelings,  I  wished  myself  most  dead; 
But  the  thoughts  of  my  dear  Sally  soon  made  them  feelings  get, 
And  whispered  hopes  to  Bowers,  I  wish  I  had  them  yet. 

Then  I  commenced  a-mining,  put  in  my  biggest  licks, 
Came  down  upon  the  boulders  just  like  ten  thousand  bricks; 
I  worked  both  late  and  early  through  rain  and  ice  and  snow, 
I  was  working  for  my  Sally,  but  it  was  all  the  same  to  Joe. 

One  day  I  got  a  letter  from  my  dear  brother  Ike, 
It  came  from  old  Missouri  and  all  the  way  from  Pike; 
In  that  letter  came  the  darndest  news  that  ever  you  did  hear, 
My  heart  is  almost  busting,  so  pray  excuse  the  tears. 

98 


aid  that  Sal  was  false  to  me,  her  love  for  me  had  fled, 
She  had  got  married  to  a  butcher  and  the  butcher  had  a  red 

head; 
And  more  than  that,  the  letter  said — 'twas  enough  to  make  me 

swear, 
That  Sally  had  a  baby  and  the  baby  had  red  hair. 

Now,  I've  told  you  all  I  can  about  this  sad  affair. 
About  Sally  having  a  baby  and  the  baby  having  red  hair, 
But  whether  it  was  a  boy  or  gal  child  the  letter  never  said, 
Only  that  Sally  had  a  baby  and  the  baby's  head  was  red. 


THE  TOWN  PASSAGE. 

The  Town  Passage  is  large  and  spacious  and  situated  upon 

the  say, 
It  is  nate  and  dacent  and  quiet,  adjacent  to  the  cove  of  Cork 

on  a  summer  da 
There  you  can  slip  in  to  take  a  diping  forninst  the  shipping 

that  at  anchor  ride. 
Or  in  a  wherry  cross  o'er  the  ferry  to  Caregoloe  on  the  other 

side. 

Mud  cabins  swarm  in  this  place  so  charming  with  sailors'  gar- 
ments hung  out  to  dry. 

And  each  abode  is  snug  and  -commodious  witli  pigs  melodious 
in  their  straw-built  sty; 

Oh,  the  pigs  are  sleek  and  well  contented,  their  odor  fragrant 
it  scents  the  air. 

Oh,  the  beef  and  biskie,  the  pork  and  whisky,  it  would  make 
you  frisky  if  you  were  there. 

It's  there  the  turf  is  and  lots  of  Murphies;. -Dead  Spratts  and 

Herring  and  Oyster  Shells, 
Nor  any  lack  of  good  tobacco,  but  what  is  smuggled  by  far 

excels ; 
It's  there  you'd  see  Peg  Murphy's  daughter  peeling   praties 

forninst  the  dure,  * 

With  me -aunt  Delaney  and  Bridget  Haney,  all  blood  relations 

to  Lord  Donoughmore. 

There  is  ships  from  Cadiz  and  from  the  Barbadoes,  but  the 

lading  trade  is  in  whiskey  punch, 
Or  you  can  go  in  to  where  one  Mjplly  Bowen  kapes  a  nate  hotel 

for  a  quiet  lunch ; 
But  land  or  deck  on  you  can  Safely  reckon,  whatever  country 

that  you  came  from, 

99 


On  an  invitation  to  a  jollification  by  a  parish  priest  called 
Father  Tom. 

Of  ships  there  is  one  fixed  for  lodging  convicts,  a  floating  stone 
jug  of  amazing  bulk. 

And  the  hake  and  salmon  playing  at  back  Gamon  swim  for  di- 
version all  around  her  hulk; 

There  English  peelers  keep  brave  repalers  who  soon  with  sail- 
ors must  anchor  weigh, 

From  the  Emerald  Island  ne'er  to  see  dry  land  until  they  spy 
land  in  Botany  Bay. 


BARNEY  BRALLIGAN. 

You  have  heard  of  Barney  Bralligan,  the  purty  Colleens'  joy, 
And  if  you  want  to  know  him,  bedad,  here  stands  the  boy. 
There  is  not  a  girl  in  Dublin  Town  but  by  me  well  is  known, 
And  don't  they  seem  to  like  me,  though,,  for  I've  kissed  the 
blarney  stone. 

Chorus — 

Who's  for  Donnybrook,  I  cry,  swate  spot  to  view  the  fair, 
Oh,  jump  upon  my  jaunting  car  and  1 11  quickly  drive  you  there. 

And  there  is  the  lady  of  my  heart,  you'd  drive  both  near  and  far 
To  find  as  graceful  a  colleen  to  deck  a  jaunting  car; 
It's  married  we -will  shortly  be,  now,  boys,  won't  that  be  grand? 
So  here's  success  to  Nora  dear,  and  the  boys  of  Ireland. 


OLD  MTD  CABIN  ON  THE  HILL. 

C4o  sell  the  pig  and  cow,  Aggrah,*to  take  you  far  away, 

Your  poor  old  parents  you  must  leave  behind; 
Go'  seek  your  fortune,  darling,  in  the  land  beyond  the  sea, 

For  in  Paddy's  land  but  poverty  you'll  find. 
Those  were  the  words  my  mother  said  when  I  left  poor  Paddy's 
land. 

And  the  sad  farewell  is  in  my  memory  still, 
And  old  Ireland  engravened  on  my  heart,  the  spot  where  I 
was  born. 

In  the  little  old  mud  cabin  on  the  hill. 

I  think  I  see  the  turf  fire,  it  attracts  my  father's  gaze, 
And  my  poor  old  mother's  knitting  by  his  side, 

100 


The  pipe  is  lit,  the  smoke  ascends,  he  is  thinking  of  the  day 

That  took  his  darling  boy  across  the  tide. 
No  more  I'll  join  the  merry  throng  upon  the  earthen  floor, 

To  the  music  of  the  bagpipes  loud  and  shrill, 
No  more  I'll  see  those  good  old  days  in  dear  old  Paddy's  land, 

Or  the  little  old  mud  cabin  on  the  hill. 

God  help  the  emigrant  that  leaves  poor  Paddy's  land, 

His  friends  to  mourn  his  absence  while  he's  gone; 
He  sails  to  dear  America  with  heart  both  sick  and.  sore, 

For  those  he  loves  he  braves  the  world  alone. 
But  if  God  does  spare  my  life  to  passage  back  again, 

To  bring  my  parents  out,  if  living  still, 
But  if  not,  please  God,  I'll  meet  them  all  in  a  better  home, 

Than  the  little  old  mud  cabin  on  the  hill. 


THE  BOUNTY  JUMPER. 

Soldiers,  pay  attention  and  I'll  sing  to  you  a  song, 

it  is  about  a  bounty  jumper  and  I  won't  detain  you  long; 

He  was  a  bold,  undaunted  youth,  James  Downey  was  his  name, 

He  was  taken  at  Alexandria  for  the  doing  of  the  same. 

He  jumped  it  in  Malone  and  he  jumped  it  in  New  York, 
He  jumped  it  in  old  Ogdensburg,  a,t  least  that  was  the  talk; 
He  jumped  it  everywhere,  my  boys,  along  the  Yankee  shore. 
He  was  taken  on  his  last  retreat  from  the  city  of  Baltimore. 

Downey  he  was  taken  and  the  judge  to  him  did  say, 
"Where  is  that  money,  Downey,  or  where  have  you  it  put 

away?" 
"That  money  I  have  taken,  it  is  out  of  your  command, 
And  before    I    will   surrender   it   you   can   shoot   me   and   be 

damned." 

Poor  Downey  knelt  on  his  coffin,  boys,  and  unto  us  did  say, 
"Now,  soldiers,  do  your  duty  and  your  officers  obey; 
Now,  soldiers,  do  your  duty,  and  it  is  all  point  at  my  heart, 
For  it  is  out  from  of  this  wide  world,  boys,  we  all  have  got 
to  part." 

"We  dug  poor  Downey 's  grave,  my  boys,  we  duglt  wide  and  deep, 

We  dug  it  in  the  valley  where  Downey  had  to  sleep; 

We  dug  it  in  the  valley  and  we  carried  him  along, 

And  every  soldier  dropped  a  tear  for  the  bounty  jumper  is  gone. 

101 


.NOTHING  TOO  GOOD  FOR  THE  IRISH. 

I  will  tell  a  story  that  was  told  to  me, 

A  good  old  story,  Agra  Machree, 

When  my  mother  was  a-dying,  alas,  says  she, 

Nothing's  too  good  for  the  Irish." 
When  we  came  here,  me  and  brother  Dan, 
I  says  to  him,  "We'll  do  the  best  we  can," 
So  they  made  him  a  "copper"  and  me  an  Alderman, 

Nothing  is  too  good  for  the  Irish. 

"When  my  brother  Michael  came  here  that  fall, 
He  was  a  "dandy"  between  yon  and  all, 
Soon  he  got  to  be  the  leader  at  Tammany  Hall, 

Nothing's  too  good  for  the  Irish. 
But  Mike  wouldn't  work,  oh,  no,  he  wouldn't  work, 
Says  he  to  me  as  he  gave  me  a  nudge, 
"Just  wait  till  election  and  you'll  see, me  a  judge," 

Nothing  -is  too  good  for  the  Irish. 

Soon  I  got  to  be  the  father  of  a  twelve-pound  lad, 
He  has  whiskers  already  and  that's  not  bad, 
He  is  going  to  be  President  some  day,  by  dad, 

Notu ing's  too  good  for  the  Irish. 
He  sailed  away  with  his  blackthorn  stick. 
To  marry  the  queen  and  make  the  British  sick, 
And  try  to  free  old  Ireland  like  a  good  old  Mick, 

Nothing's  too  good  for  the  Irish. 

Dutchmen  were  made  for  to  carry  coal  in  shovels, 

Italians  "for  organs  and  Englishmen  to  mash ; 
Chinese  for  washing,  the  Japs  for  a  juggling  show, 
"Nagurs"  for  whitewashing,  the  Jews  were  made  for  cash. 
Cubans  for  cigarettes,  the  Portuguese  to  sail  the  seas, 

Scotchmen  for  bakers  and  Frenchmen  for  style, 
Russians  for  mining,  Americans  for  liberty. 

But  the  men  'twas  made  for  office  was  sons  of  Erin's 
Isle, 
THEN  HIP,  HIP  HURRAH !    ERIN  GO  BRAGH, 

NOTHING'S  TOO  GOOD  FOR  THE  IRISH. 


MULDOON,  THE  SOLID  MAN. 

I  am  a  man  of  great  influence  and  educated  to  a  high  degree, 
I  came  when  small  from  Donegal,  in  the  Daniel  "Webster  I 
crossed  the  sea; 

102 


Iii  the  Fourteenth  ward  I  situated  in  a  tenament  house  with 

me  brother  Dan. 
By  perseverance  I  elevated  and  went  to  the  front  like  a  solid 

man. 

Chorus — ■ 

So  come  with  me  and  I'll  use  you  dacent, 
I  '11  get  you  drunk  and  I  '11  fill  your  can ; 
[  walk  the  street  each  friend  I  meet 
Says, ' '  There  goes  Muldoon,  he 's  a  solid  man. ' ' 

To  every  party  and  every  raffle  I  always  go,  an  invited  guest, 
And  as  conspicuous  as  General  Grant,  boys,  I  wear  a  rosebud 

upon  my  breast ; 
I  'm  called  upon  to  address  the  meeting,  without  regard  to  clique 

or  clan, 
J  show  the  Constitution  with  elocution  because,  you  know,  I'm 

a  solid  man. 


IN  THE  EVENING  BY  THE  MOONLIGHT. 

In  the  evening  by  the  moonlight  when  the  darkies'  work  was 
over, 
We  would  gather   'round  the  fire  till  the  hoe  cake  it  was 
done : 
After  that  we'd  eat  our  supper  and  then  we'd  clear  the  kitchen, 

'Twas  the  only  time  we  used  to  get  to  have  a  little  fun. 
Uncle  Gabe  would  take  the  fiddle  down  that  hung  upon  the  wall, 

While  the  silvery  stars  were  shining  clear  and  bright; 
How  the  old  folks  would  enjoy  it,  they  would  sit  all  night  and 
listen 
As  we  sang  in  the  evening  by  the  moonlight. 

Chorus — 
In  the  evening  by  the  moonlight  you  could  hear  those  darkies 

singing, 
In  the  evening  by  the  moonlight  you  could  hear  those  banjos 

ringing, 
How  the  old  folks  would  enjoy  it,  they  would  sit  all  night  and 

listen, 
As  we  sang  in  the  evening  by  the  moonlight. 

In  the  evening  by  the  moonlight  when  the  watch  dog  would  be 

sleep  in  ^ 
In  the  corner  by  the  fireplace  close  by  the  old  arm  chair; 

103 


"When  Aunt  Chloe  used  to  sit  and  tell  the  pickaninnies  stories, 
And  the  cabin  would  be  filled  with  merry  coons  from  near 
and  far. 
Those  happy  days  they  all  are  gone,  they'll  never  come  again, 

.    Everything  was  joyous,  gay  and  bright; 
But  I  never  will  forget  it  just  as  long  as  I  remember, 
How  we  sang  in  the  evening  by  the  moonlight/ 


SWEET  MARY  JANE. 

My  true  love's  name  was  Mary  Jane, 
She  fairly  did  my  heart  inflame, 
I'm  sure  there  was  not  so  fair  a  dame, 
And  search  this  wide  world  over. 

Mary  Jane  and  I  we  did  agree 
That  married  we  would  surely  be, 
As  soon  as  I  returned  from  sea, 

"We  would  seal  that  solemn  bargain. 

But  when  I  did  return  again, 
They  had  my  sweet  companion  slain, 
The  pride  and  glory  of  the  plane 
Lay  in  her  grave  all  mouldering. 

I  wish  I'd  never  come  on  shore, 
But  stayed  where  foaming  billows  roar, 
And  sailed  the  seas  all  o'er  and  o'er, 
Since  parted  from  my  jewel. 


THE  BANKS  OF  BOYNE. 

I  am  a  bonnie  lassie  and  I  love  my  laddie  well, 
My  heart  was  always  true  to  him  for  more  than  time  can  tell; 
It  was  in  my  father 's  castle  where  he  gained  this  heart  of  mine, 
But  he  has  left  me  here  to  wander  on  the  lovely  banks  of  Boyne. 

His  coal  black  hair  in  ringlets  hung,  his  cheeks  were  like  the  rose, 
His  teeth  were  like  the  ivory  white,  his  eyes  were  black  as  Sloes, 
His  countenance  it  was  sincere,  his  speech  was  bold  but  kind, 
But  he  has  left  me  here  to  wander  on  the  lovely  banks  of  Boyne. 

I  understand  my  false  young  man  to  England  sailed  away, 
I  picked  up  all  my  jewels,  all  on  that  very  day, 
I  left  my  aged  parents,  they  now  in  sorrow  pine, 

104 


I  forsook  my  father's  castle  on  the  lovely  banks  of  Boyne. 

No  more  down  by  those  purling  streams  that  swiftly  glide  away, 
Where  me  and  my  true  lover  for  pleasure  used  to  stray; 
Come,  all  you  pretty  fair  maids,  mind  how  you  spend  your  time, 
Just  think  of  the  fate  of  Flora  from  the  lovely  banks  of  Boyne. 


NORA  McSHANE. 

I  left  Balamonoth  a  long  way  behind  me, 

To  better  my  fortune  I  crossed  the  deep  sea, 
But  I'm  sadly  alone,  not  a  creature  to  mind  me, 

And,  faith,  I'm  as  wretched  as  wretched  can  be; 
In  truth,  I  think  'm  near  broken  hearted, 

To  country  and  home  I  must  return  back  again, 
For  I've  never  been  happy  at  all  since  I  parted 

From  sweet  Balamonoth  and  Nora  McShane. 

I  sigh  for  the  turf  fire  so  cheerfully  burning, 

Where  barefooted  I  trudged  it  from  toiling  afar, 
And  tossed  in  the  light  the  thirteen  I'd  been  earning, 

And  whistled  the  anthems  of  Erin  go  Bragh; 
But  now  far  away  from  my  fireside  I'm  parted, 

Away  back  in  dear  America  over  the  main, 
And  may  God  speed  the  ship  that  is  sailing  tomorrow, 

Back  to  dear  old  Erin  and  Nora  McShane. 

There  is  something  so  dear  in  the  cot  I  was  born  in, 

Though  the  walls  are  but  mud  and  the  roof  is  but  thatch, 
How  familiar  the  grunt  of  the  pigs  in  the  morning, 

What  pleasure  in  lifting  that  ould  rusty  latch; 
It's  true  I'd  no  money,  but  then  I'd  no  sorrow, 

My  pockets  were  light  and  my  head  had  no  pain, 
But  if  I'm  living  when  the  sun  shines  tomorrow, 

I'll  go  back  to  ould  Erin  and  Nora  McShane. 


BANKS  OF  THE  NILE. 

Hark!  hark!  the  drums  are  beating,  my  love,  I  must  away, 
I  hear  the  bugle  calling,  I  can  no  longer  stay; 
We  are  ordered  out  from  Portsmouth  for  many  a  long  mile, 
To  fight  the  Moors  and  Niggers  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile. 

Oh,  Willie  dear,  don 't  leave  me  here  behind  to  weep  and  mourn, 
So  I  may  curse  and  rue  the  day  that  ever  I  was  born,- 

105 


For  the  parting  from  my  sweetheart  is  like  parting  from  my  life, 
So  stay  at  home,  dear  Willie,  and  T  will  be  your  wife. 

The  Queen  she  calls  for  men,  love,  and  I,  for  one,  must  go, 
The  Queen  she  calls  for  men,-- love,  I  dare  not  answer  No; 
We  must  away  to  face  the  foe  while  cannons  roar  the  while, 
To  fight  with  Briton's  heroes  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile. 

Then  I'll  cut  off  my  yellow  hair  and  go  along  with  you, 

I  will  put  oh  men's  clothing  and  go  see  Egypt,  too; 

I  will  cherish  and  protect  you  through  hardship  and  through 

toil, 
And  we'll  comfort  one  another  on  the  Banks  of  the  Nile. 

Your  waist  it  is  too  slender,  love,  your  fingers  are  too  small, 
I  am  afraid  you  would  not  answer  when  on  you  I  would  call, 
Your  delicate  constitution  would  last  but  a  short  while, 
Among  those  sandy  deserts  on  the  Banks  of  the  Nile. 

Oh,  cursed  be  the  cruel  war  and  the  hour  it  first  begun, 

For  it  has  robbed  old  Ireland  of  many  a  noble  son; 

It  robs  us  of  our  sweethearts,  protectors  of  the  soil, 

And  their  bodies  feed  the  wild  fowls _on  the  Banks  of  the  Nile. 

But  soon  the  war  will  be  over  and  we'll  all  be  coming  home, 
Unto  our  wives  and  sweethearts  we  left  behind  to  mourn; 
We  will  kiss  them  and  embrace  them  with  their  little  winning 

smile, 
And  we  never  will  return  again  to  the  Banks  of  the  Nile. 


JOHANNA  SHAY. 

In  the  Emerald  Isle  so  far  from  here  across*  the  dark  blue  sea, 
There  lives  a  maid  that  I  love  dear  and  I  know  that  she  loves  me, 
With  roguish  eyes  of  Irish  blue  her  cheeks  like  dawn  of  day, 
Oh,  the  sunshine  of-  my  life  she  is,  my  own  Johanna  Shay. 

Oh,  Johanna  is  tall  and  lovely  and  like  a  lily  fair, 

She  is  the  prettiest  girl  that  can  be  found  in  the  County  of 

Kildare, 
And  if  I  have  good  luck,  me  boys,  I'll  make  her  Mrs.  O'Day, 
For  my  bundle  I'll  pack  and  I'll  sail  right  back  to  my  own 

Johanna  Shay. 

There's  a  bird  in  yonder  garden  singing  from  a  willow  tree, 
That  makes  me  think  of  Johanna  when  she  used  to  sing  to  me; 
When  side  by  side  o'er  the  mountains  or  by  the  lake  we  strolled, 

106 


And  her  cheeks  would  flush  with  au  honest  blush  whenever  a 

kiss  I  stole; 
Though  the  ocean  rolls  between  us,  if  harm  was  in  her  way, 
I  would  jump  right  in  and  boldly  swim  to  my  own  Johanna 

Shay; 


I  WILL  TAKE  YOU  BACK  AiGAJN,  KATHLEEN. 

I  will  take  you  home  again,  Kathleen, 

\  cross  the  ocean  wild  and  wide, 
To  where  your  heart  has  ever  been, 

ice  first  you  were  my  bonnie  bride; 
The  roses  all  have  left  your  cheek, 

I  have  watched  them  fade  away  and  die; 
Your  voice  is  sad  whene'er  you  speak, 

And  tears  bedim  your  loving  eye. 

Refrain — 

Oh,  I  will  take  you  back  again,  Kathleen, 
To  where  your  heart  will  know  no  pain, 

And  when  the  fields  are  fresh  and  green, 
I  will  take  you  to  your  home  again. 

I  know  you  love  me,  Kathleen  dear, 

Your  heart  was  ever  fond  and  true, 
I  always  feel  when  you  are  near 

That  earth  holds  nothing,  dear,  but  you; 
Where  are  the  smiles  you  once  gave  me? 

I  seldom  ever  see  them  now, 
And  many,  many  times  a  day, 

A  dark'ning  shadow  clouds  your  brow. 

To  that  dear  land  beyond  the  sea, 

My  Kathleen  will  again  return, 
And  when  thy  old  friends  welcome  thee, 

Your  loving  heart  will  cease  to-  mourn; 
Where  gently  flows  that  purling  stream, 

Down  by  your  mother's  humble  cot, 
Where  those  brightest  rays  of  sunbeams  gleam, 

Then  all  your  trials  will  be  forgot. 


in  sayannah: 

'Neath  the  Southern  skies  there  stands  a  humble  cottage, 
'Neath  its  roof  sits  a  mother  old  and  gray, 
107 


In  the  trees  around  the  song-  birds  are  singing1. 
Their  melody  helps  to  while  her  hours  away. 

Though  I've  wandered  far  and  wide,  yet  never 
Have  I  forgotten  her  where'er  I've  roamed, 

Don't  weep,  dear  mother,  for  your  boy  is  coming 
Back  to  his  home,  sweet  home. 

Chorus — > 

In  Savannah,  sweet  Savannah, 

There's  where  the  mocking  bird 
Is  singing  night  and  day, 
In  Savannah,  sweet  Savannah, 

Home  of  my  boyhood  days. 

Soon  I'll  be  back  in  old  Savannah, 

Soon  I  '11  be  where  sweet  magnolias  bloom, 
Then  my  arms  will  soon  entwine  my  ,gray-haired  sweetheart, 

Soon  I'll  banish  her  sorrow  and  gloom; 
I  love  her  for  she  bears  the  name  of  Mother, 

And  in„my  dreams  I  see  her  falling  tears, 
The  song  birds  seem  to  know  that  she  is  grieving, 

And  sing  for  her  in  her  declining  years. 


LONESOME  HOURS  OF  WINTER. 

Oh,  the  lonesome  hours  of  winter  provide  both  frost  and  snow, 
Dark  clouds  around  us  gather,  the  stormy  winds  do  blow; 
You  are  the  girl  I  have  chosen  to  be  my  only  dear, 
But  your  scornful  heart  is  frozen  and  fast  locked  up  I  fear.    . 

I  went  one  night  to  see  my  love,  she  proved  most  scornfully, 
I  asked  her  if  she'd  marry  me  to  which  she  paid  no  heed; 
The  night  being  nearly  passed  and  gone  and  near  the  break  of 

day, 
I  am  waiting  for  iay  answer,  my  love,  what  do  you  say? 

Since  you  must  have  an  answer,  I  choose  a  single  life, 
I_never  thought  it  fitting  to  ever  become  your  wife; 
You  may  take  that  for  an  answer,  for  myself  I  will  provide, 
I  have  chosen  another  sweetheart  and  you  I  cast  aside. 

Since  you  are  for  a-changing  the  old  one  for  the  new, 
Then.  I  will  (go  a-roving,  I'll  rove  the  country  through, 
Until  I  find  some  pretty  fair  maid  so  pleasing  to  my  will, 
Oh,  this  world  is  wide  and  lonesome,  if  one  don't,  why  another 
will. 

108 


I  know  you  have  great  riches  and  more  you'd  like  to  gain, 
You  won  my  young  affections  which  now  you  do  disdain; 
Your  riches  will  not  last  you  long,  they'll  melt  away  like  snow, 
And  when  poverty  will  press  you,   dear,  you'll  think  of  me, 
I  know. 

Some  folks  do  seek  for  pleasure,  but  -I  no  pleasure  find, 

little  birds  sing  sweetly  all  around  on  every  vine, 
The  little  birds  sing  sweetly,  so  pleasing  and  divine, 
And  so  would  my  joys  be  flowing  tonight  if  Nancy  was  only 
mine. 


MOLLY  BAWN. 

Oh,  Molly  Bawn  is  my  love's  name,  the  same  I'll  ne'er  deny, 
She  has  two  red  and  rosy  cheeks,  two  dark  and  rolling  eyes; 
She  is  the  primrose  of  this  country,  she  is  Venus,  I  declare, 
And  the  brightest*  star  that  is  in  the  land  is  Molly  Bawn  so  fair. 

For  where  my  love  goes  she  trips  the  rose  and  makes  the  valle}'S 

ring. 
And  all  the  little  small  birds  in  my  love's  praises  sing; 
The  cuckoo  and  the  turtle  dove,  the  nightingale  also, 
They  seem  to  say,  "Let  us  haste  away  to  wait  on  Molly-O." 

I  wish  I  was  in  Ireland  sitting  on  the  green  grass, 
And  in  my  hand  a  bottle  .and  on  my  knee  a  lass ; 
We'd  drink  good  liquor  merrily  and  pay  before  we'd  ,go. 
I  would  roll  you  in  my  arms,  Molly,  let  the  winds  blow  high 
or  low. 


LEAVING  EHIN.     ■ 

Farewell,  Erin,  I  now  must  leave  you  for  to  cross  the  raging 

main , 
Where  cruel  strife  may  end  my  life  and  I'll  ne'er  see  you  again; 
It  will  break  my  heart  from  you  to  part,  Arrah  Cushla  Asthore 

Alachree 
But  I  must  go  full  of  grief  and  woe  to  the  shores  of  America. 

Chorus— 
So  now,  farewell,  I  can  no  longer  dwell  in  Ireland,  Acushla 

For  I  must  go  full  of  grief  and  woe  to  the  shores  of  America. 

109 


On  Irish  soil  my  parents  dwelt  since  the  time  of  Brien  Boru, 
They  paid  their  rent  and  lived  content,  convenient  to  Kjllaloo 
But  the  landlord  cruel  sent  us  ashule,  my  poor  old  mother  and 

me, 
He  banished  us  from  home  far  away  to  roam  to  the  wilds  of 

America. 

No  more  at  the  churchyard,  Asthore  Machree,  on  my  father's 

grave  can  I  kneel, 
The  rich  man  knows  but  little  of  the  woes  that  the  poor  man 

has  to.  feel; 
When  I  look  around  on  the  little  spot  of  ground  where  the 

cabin  used  to  be, 
I  may  curse  the  laws  that  have  gave  me  cause  to  depart  for 

America. 

Where  are  the  neighbors  kind  and  true  that  were  once  our 
country's  pride? 

No  more  they  are  seen  at  the  fair  on  the  green  or  dance  on 
the  green  hillside;  , 

It  is  the  stranger's  cow  that  is  grazing  now  where  the  poor  man 
used  to  be, 

With  notices  they  were  served  and  turned  out  to  starve  or  ban- 
ished to  America. 

Oh,  Erin  Machree,  must  your  children  be  exiled  all  over  the 

earth  ? 
Must  they  think  no  more  of  you,  dear  land,  as  the  spot  that 

gave  them  birth? 
Must  the  Irish  yield  to  the  beast  of  the  field,  Arrah  no,  Cushla 

Asthore  Machree, 
They're  coming  back  in  ships  with  vengeance  on  their  lips  from 

the  shores  of  America. 


THE  BOY  OF  LOVE. 

The  boy  of  love  without  no  fear  like  me  some  time  ago, 

Like  a  hero  bold  through  frost  and  cold  to  see  my  love  I'd  go, 

But  the  moon  shone  bright  to  give  me  light  over  the  meadows 

so  gay, 
Until  I  arrived  at  my  true  love's  gate  where  all  my  fancy  lay. 

When  I   arrive   at  my  true  love's  gate,  my  step  being  soft 

and  low, 
She  will  arise  and  let  me  in,  so  softly  I  will  go, 
Saying,  "Will  you  come  to  my  father's  house?"    "No,  dear, 

but  come  to  your  own, 

110 


Come  with  mo.  love,  to  the  Parson's  and  there  we'll  be  made 
one." 

"Oh,  no.  kind  sir,"  said  she,  "Prudence  would  not  agree." 
"Well,  then,  sit  down  along  by  my  side,  for  I  must  talk  with 

thee. 
For  seven  Ions:  vears  I  have  courted  you  against  your  parents' 

will, 
I  was  alw  'Ived  you  would  be  my  bride,  but  now,  pretty 

girl,  farewell. 

"My  ship  lies  in  the  harbor  all  ready  to  set  sail, 

And  if  the  wind  is  from  the  East  we'll  have  a  favoring  gale; 

Let  the  wind  blow  East  or  from  the  West,  only  to  Columbia's 

shore, 
And  when  I  reach  Columbia's  shore  it  is  often  I  will  say, 
'May  the  Lord  above  protect  my  love  where  all  my  fancy  lay.'  " 


I  COULDN'T  STAY  AWAY. 

Away  down  in  old  Virginia  where  I  was  bred  and  born, 
In  that  rosy,  sunny  country  where  we  used  to  hoe  the  corn, 
In  childhood's  happy  moments  my  heart  was  light  and  gay, 
Now  I  have  come  to  see  my  birthplace,  for  I  couldn't  stay  away. 

Chorus — ■ 

For  I  couldn't  and  I  wouldn't,  no,  I  couldn't  stay  away  from 

there, 
I  couldn't  and  I  wouldn't,  no,  I  couldn't  stay  away. 

I  once  did  love  a  fair  one  'way  down  in  Dixie's  land, 
And  one  day  popped  the  question  to  offer  heart  and  hand; 
She  says,  "My  heart  has  been  won  and  from  me  you  must 

stay 
But  she  was  only  fooling,  and  I  couldn't  stay  away. 

I  have  been  both  East  and  Westward  and  Southard  far  away 

But  from  the  old  plantation  I  could  no  longer  stay, 
And  all  the  happy  faces  that  greets  me  here  tonight 
Does  make  me  doubly  happy  and  fills  me  with  delight. 


DOWN  IN  YONDER  VALLEY. 

Down  in  yonder  valley  there  lives  my  heart's  delight, 
It's  down' in  yonder  valley  I'll  meet  my  love  tonight, 
For  meeting  is  a  pleasure  between  my  love  and  I, 

111 


It's  down  in  yonder  valley  I'll  meet. her  bye  and  bye. 

I  met  my  love  as  she  was  going  to  church  and  straightway  she 

passed  me  by, 
I  knew  her  mind  was  changing  by  the  rolling  of  her  eye; 
I  knew  her  mind  was  changing  to  a  lad  of  high  degree, 
And  may  he  be  hange,d  forever  that  parted  my  love  and  me. 

I  took  a  bottle  from  my  pocket  and  I  placed  it  in  her  hand, 
Saying,   "Mollie,   drink  of  this,  love,   for  our  courtship  is  at 

an  end," 
Saying,  "Drink  from  off  the  top,  love,  let  the  bottom  remain 

for  me, 
Five  hundred  pounds  are  wagered  that  married  we'll  never  be." 

'"So  farewell,  Tipperary,  and  farewell  to  you,  Trimore, 
And  farewell,  lovely  Mollie,  your  face  I'll  see  no  more; 
America  lies  far  away,  it's  a  land  I'm  going  to  see, 
And  may  he  be  hanged  forever  that  parted  Mollie  and  me." 


WHERE  THE  RIVER  SHANNON  FLOWS. 

There's  a<  pretty  spot  in  Ireland, 
I  always  claim  for  my  land, 
Where  the  fairies  and  the  blarney 

Will  never,  never  die. 
It's  the  land  of  the  shilalah, 
My  heart  goes  back  there  daily, 
To  the  girl  I  left  behind  me 

When  we  kissed  and  said  good-bye. 

Chorus — ■ 

Where  dear  old  Shannon's  flowing, 
Where  the  three-leafed  shamrocks  grow, 
Where  my  heart  is  I  am  going 

To  my  little  Irish  rose. 
And  the  moment  that  I  meet  her, 
With  a  hug  and  kiss  I'll  igreet  her, 
For  there's  not  a  colleen  sweeter, 

Where  the  river  Shannon  flows. 

Sure,  no  letter  I'll  be  mailing, 

For  soon  will  I  be  sailing, 

And  I'll  bless  the  ship  that  takes  me 

To  my  dear  old  Erin's  shore; 
There  I'll  settle  down  forever, 
112 


I'll  leave  the  old  sod  ne\ 

And  I'll  whisper  to  my  sweetheart, 

and  take  my  name  Asthore." 


I'LL  RETURN,  MOTHER  DARLING,  TO  YOU. 

A  mother  was  saying  "goocUbye"  to  her  hoy, 
AY  ho  was  ready  to  start  for  the  war, 

she  said,  ''You're  my  pride  and  joy, 
•e  we  parting  for  evermore?" 
He  whispered,  "'The  war  will  be  over  some  day, 
Though  I  know  that  your  heart  will jyearn ; 
Have  cheer,  mother  dear,  soon  the  spring  will  be  here, 
That's  the  time  when  I  will  return." 

Chorus — 

When  the  roses  of  springtime  are  blooming, 

I'll  return,  mother  darling,  some  day; 
At  the  end  of  the  winter  of  sadness, 

Then  I'll  kiss  all  your  tears  away: 
Just  forget  that  your  boy  is  a  soldier, 

To  my  country  and  home  IT1  be  true; 
When  the  birds  sweetly  sing,  I'll  return  in  the  spring, 

I'll  return,  mother  darling,  to  you. 

A  mother  was  praying,  alone,  for  her  boy, 

As  she  prayed  since  that  day  long  ago; 
She  cried  as  she  thought  of  the  battlefield, 

"Something's  happened  to  him,  I  know." 
The  door  of  the  cottage  was  opened  at  last, 

Soon  a  voice  cheered  her  weary  heart; 
Her  boy  cried  with  joy.  "Days  Of  sorrow  are  past, 

Mother  dear,  we  will  never  part." 


SINCE  TERRENCE  JOINED  THE  GANG. 

My  name  is  Michael  Slattery,  and  from  Ireland  I  came, 
And  I've  a  son  that  a  big  blagguard,and  Terrence  that's  his 

name ; 
He  wears  a  great  big  watch  and  chain  and  he  calls  it  a  Super 

and  a  slang, 
My  heart  is  broke,  God  knows,  it  is  since  Terrence  joined  the 

gang. 

113 


He  comes  rolling:  home  in  the  morning,  boys, 
Gives  the  "dure"  the  divil's  own  bang, 
Me  heart  is  broke,  God  knows  it  is, 
Since  Terrence  joined  the  gang. 

When  he  came  home  last  Sunday  evening  I  talked  to  him  so 

very  nice, 
And  he  said,  "Ould  man,  you  are  getting  too  fresh,  and  well 

have  to  lay  you  out  upon  the  ice," 
He  told  the  ould  woman  to  go  chase  herself  and  to  lave  off 

giving  him  her  slang, 
Her  heart  is  broke,  God  knows  it  is,  since  Terrence  joined  the 

gang. 

He'll  stand  upon  the  corners  from  morning  until  night, 
And  if  the  police  they  say,  ''Move  on,"  he'll  spit  at  them  with 

spite ; 
He  went  to  the  market  only  yesterday  and  there  he  stole  a 

big  ham, 
And  he  got  six  months  in  the  penitentiary,  along  with  the  rest 

of  the  gaiiir. 


TOSS  THE  TURK. 

One  evening  lately  I  dressed  up  nately, 

With  Sunday  clothes,  plug  hat  and  all. 
And  I  started  proudly  while  whistling  loudly, 

To  Neal  Brogan's  raffle  at  Hibernia  Hall; 
While  on  the  corner  a  gang  of  loafers, 

I  know  they're  loafers  for  they  never  work, 
Says,  "Boys,  let  us  give  the  old  Tad  a  racket, 

We'll  have  a  picnic  and  we'll  toss  the  Turk." 

Chorus — ■ 

Now,  I'm  not  a  fighter,  nor  yet  a  biter, 
But  when  duty  calls  me  T  never  shirk; 

Understand  me  plainly,  though  I  look  ungainly, 
They  had  no  picnic  when  they  tossed  the  Turk. 

The  big  ring  leader,  a  free  lunch  raider, 

Says  to  me,  "O'Brien,  go  paint  your  tile, 

Put  crepe  around  it,  take  an  axe  and  pound  it," 
And  he  thought  it  funny  when  the  gang  did  smile 

'Twas  then  my  dander  rose  like  a  gander, 

For  I  heard  one  fellow  say  he'd  flash  a  -dirk, 

So  I  tapped  him  lightly  and  surprised  him  quietly, 

114 


id  they  had  no  picnic  when  they  tossed  the  Turk. 

They  gathered  Ground  me  and  tried  to  pound  me, 

But  I  put  me  back  again'  a  big  brick  wall, 
I,  "Now  mind  me,  you  can't  get  behind  me, 

Come  up  in  front  and  I'll  bate  you  all." 
Then  the  gang  did  face  me  and  tried  to  lace  me, 

But  I  showed  them  tricks  I  learned  in  Donegal; 
Right  and  left  I  pounded,  they  were  dumbfounded, 

And  at  last  for  mercy  thev  did  loudly  bawl.  ' 


MY  CHARMING  LASS  FROM  THE  COUNTY  MAYO. 

The  daughters  of  Erin  are  famed  the  world  ovei 

For  wit  and  for  beauty  and  charms  of  their  own, 
But  there  is  one   'mong  the  land  of  the  shamrock  and  clover, 

Fair  as  the  fair  and  is  second  to  none. 
She  can  not  boast  of  wealth,  of  rank  or  of  station, 

That  true  hearted  Colleen  that  loves  me,  I  know, 
But  I  could  not  love  her  more  were  she  queen  of  a  nation, 

Instead  of  a  lass  from  the  County  Mayo. 

Chorus — ■ 

As  pure  as  the  dew  drops  that  fall  on  the  heather, 

Her  cheeks  like  the  primrose  with  sunlight  aglow ; 

Our  hearts  are  linked  together  with  love's  silken  tether, 
She  is  my  charming  lass  from  the  County  Mayo. 

The  mold  of  her  ankle  a  Duchess  might  covet, 

Her  waist  fills  with  envy  the  great  ladies  all. 
And  her  sweet,  tempting  mouth  and  the  blue  eyes  above  it, 

The  heart  of  a  king  on  his  throne  might  enthrall; 
Not  a  lad  in  the  county  but  would  be  a  bit  bolder, 

For  they  worship  the  ground  that  she  walks  on,  I  know, 
But  she  wears  the  gold  token  of  love's  ties  that  binds  her, 

She  is  my  Irish  lass  from  the  County  Mayo. 


THE  IRISH  JAUNTING  CAR. 

Oh,  my  name  is  Larry  Doolin,  I'm  a  native  of  the  sile, 
If  you  want  a  day's  diversion  I  can  drive  you  out  in  style; 
Me  car  is  painted  red  and  green  and  on  the  door  a  star, 
And  the  pride  of  Dublin  City  is  me  Irish  jaunting  car. 

115 


Chorus — 
So  if  you  want  to  hire  me,  step  in  to  Mickey  Mars, 
And  inquire  for  Larry  Doolin  and  his  Irish  jaunting  ear. 

When  the  Queen  she  came  to  Ireland  her  health  for  to  revive, 
She  axed  her  Lord  Leiutenant  to  take  her  out  to  drive; 
She  said  unto  his  Lordship  before  they'd  traveled  far, 
How  delightful  is  the  joulting  of  an  Irish  jaunting  car." 

I'm  hired. by  drinking  men,  by  teetotalers  and  by  me  friends, 
A  carman  has  so  much  to  do  that  duty  never  ends, 
From  morn  to  night  he  has  to  drive  around  both  near  #nd  far. 
And  at  night  he  counts  his  bunces  on  his  Irish  jaunting  car. 

NEVER  GO  BACK  ON  THE  POOR. 

In  this  world  of  sorrow,  of  toil  and  regret, 

There  are  scenes  I  would  gladly  pass  o'er, 
But  stern  duty  compels  that  each  fact  must  be  told, 

So  through  life  we  may  check  them  the  more; 
Is  it  right  that  a  man  who  has  well  earned  his  pay, 

On  the  pipes  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow, 
Should  wait  like  a  beggar  on  green  day  by  day", 

Or  else  home  in  hunger  to  go? 

Don't  show  any  favor  to  friend  or  to  foe, 

The  beggar  or  prince  at  your  door; 
If  you  always  do  right  you  will  get  your  reward, 

But  never  go  back  on  the  poor. 

From  the  wild  waste  of  waters  there  came  a  death  cry, 

As  dashed  on  an  iron  bound  shore, 
A  noble  ship  struck  in  the  darkness  of  night, 

And  sank  midst  the  tempest's  loud  roar; 
The  captain  asleep  and  the  men  of  their  post, 

"With  the  coal  and  provision  run  short, 
While  the  doomed  ones  they  hoped  for  that  bright  Western  land, 

Which  in  sweet  joyous  dreams  they  had  sought. 

Can  it  be  such  neglect  shall  by  us  be  forgot, 

Or  that  money  will  triumph  once  more? 
A  good,  willing  hand,  a  stout  branch  and  a  rope, 

For  those  who  go  back  on  the  poor! 

When  the  divers  went  down  'neath  the  wreck  for  to  search 

For  the  bodies  that  lay  far  below, 
''It's  nothing  but  a  steerage,"  was  oft  the  remark, 

As  a  ghastly  corpse  came  up  to  view; 
As  if  only  a  steerage  could  shut  out  a  soul, 

Because  poverty  claimed  him  her  own, 

116 


As  if  dollars  and  dh  rce  of  all  worth, 

And  the  road  to  all  good  that  is  known. 

But  the  white  star  must  change  her  color  aloft, 

To  blood  red  afloat  and  ashore. 
Till  the  steamer  Atlantic  is  forgoitten  by  time, 

With  her  cargo  of  unburied  poor.  ( 

BANKS  (>F  THE  WABASH. 

Around  my  Indiana  homestead  waves  the  cornfields. 

In  the  distance  looms  the  woodlands  clear  and  cool.. 
Often  times  my  thoughts  revert  to  -  E  childhood, 

Where  I  first  received  my  fesson  in  Nature's  school. 
But  one  thing  there  is  missing  in  the  picture 

Without  her  fare   it  seems  so  incomplete, 
I  long  to  see  my  mother  in  the  doorway. 

As  there  years  ago  her  hoy  to  greet. 

Chwus — 
Oh,  the  moon  shines  fair  tonight  along  the  Wabash, 

From  the  feilds  there  comes  the  breath  of  new  mown  hay, 
Through  the  sycamores  the  candle  lights  are  gleaming, 

On  the  banks  of  the  Wabash  far  away. 

Many  years  ha\  I  since  I  strolled  by  the  river, 

Arm  and  arm  with  sweetheart  Mary  by  my  side, 
It  was  there  I  tried  to  tell  her  that  I  loved  her, 

It  was  there  I  asked  of  her  to  be  my  bride. 
Many  years  1  F  strolled  through  the  church  yard 

She  is  sleeping  there,  my  aiigel  Mary  dear, 
I  loved  her  hut  she  thought  I  did  not  mean  it. 

Yet  I'd  give  the  world' if  she  were  only  here. 

I  LEFT  IRELAND  AND  MOTHER  BECxVLSE  WE 
WERE  POOR. 

There  is  a  dear  spot  in  Ireland  that  I  long  for  to  see, 

■iy  own  native  birthplace,   'tis  Heaven  to  me, 
Where  my  poor  widowed  mother  lives  there  all  alone, 
With  my  brothers  and  sisters,  it  was  our  own  happy  home. 
We  had  not  much  money,  but  my  poor  mother  dear 
Placed  a  kiss  on  my  brow,  bade  my  heart  be  good  cheer, 
Though  the  shadow  of  poverty  darkened  our  door, 
I  left  Ireland  and  mother  because  we  were  poor. 
Chorus — 
Oh,  my  thoughts  oft'  go  back  to  that  dear  little  spot, 

~  117 


To  my  brothers  and  sisters,  and  the  little  thatched  cot, 
To  my  poor  widowed  mother,  I'll  ne'er  see  her. more, 
Twas  a  shame,  but  I  left  her  because  we  were  poor. 

Shall  I  ever  forget  on  that  bright,  rosy  morn. 
When  leaving  old  Ireland  my  poor  heart  did  mourn, 
And  my  poor  widowed  mother  bade  me  be  of  good  cheer, 
Saying,  "Good-bye,  Dannie  darling,*-'  "Good-bye,  mother  dear." 
And  my  brothers  and  sisters  took  me  by  the  hand, 
Faith,  my  heart  nearly  broke  when  I  left  Ireland; 
Though  the  shadow  of  poverty  darkened  our  door, 
T  left  Ireland  and  mother  because  we  were  poor. 

Since  leavhr  old  Ireland  my  poor  mother  died, 

".God  bless  and  protect  him.''  were  the* last  words  she  said, 

And  the  ring  my  father  gave  her  she  sent  it  to  me, 

A  jewel  more  precious  than  gold  unto  me. 

My  brothers  and  sisters,  I  wish  they  were  here, 

I  will  send  for  them  soon  and  they  will  come,  never  fear; 

I  have  a  neat  little  cot  on  Columbia's  shore, 

Where  Ave  all  can  live  happy  although  we  are  poor. 


THE  BATTLE   OF  WATERLOO. 

Come,  all  you  sons  of  Britton,  and  Irish  heroes,  too, 
And  all  that  fought  for  freedom's  cause  that  day  at.  Waterloo, 
Be  of  good  courage,  stout  and  bold,  and  I  will  promise  you 
That  we'll  plant  victorious  eagles  on  the  planes  of  Waterloo. 

About  eight  o'clock  the  earth  did  shock  and  this  frightful  fray 

begun. 
It  lasted  the  whole  day  long  till  the  setting  of  the  sun; 
No  pen  can  write,  no  tongue  can  tell  the  horrors  of  that  day, 
They  fought  like  men  at  Waterloo  until  they  were  betrayed. 

It  would  fill  your  heart  with  pity  if  you  seen  those  French- 
men's wives, 
Likewise  their  little  children,  with  melancholy  cries, 
Saying,  "Mamma,  dearest  Mamma,  oh,  this  day  we  sure  will  rue, 
When  we  come  to  see  our  Da  Das  slain  at  the  battle  of  Water- 
loo." 

To  see  "Bony"  like' a  bantam  perched  upon  his  car, 

He  appeared  to  be  great  Caesar  or  Mars,  the  god  of  war; 

From   a  high   platform   where  he  stood  lie  flapped  his  wings 

and  crew, 
Till  he  dropped  his  wings  through  being  betrayed  at  the  battle 

of  Waterloo. 

118 


iver  hav  'er  through  water  and  through 

mud, 

I  many  a  battle  have  I  fought  full  ankle-deep  in  blood, 
But  Provide]:  me  in  all  I  e'er  went  through. 

Till  it  was  my  lot  to  be  betrayed  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo. 

irse  attend  you.  Grouchy,  you  did  the  French  betray, 
You  led  the  sons  of  Ireland  far  different  from  their  way; 
You  were  the  cause  of  "Bony  V  fall,  alas  he  is  no  more, 

Led  him  to  St.  Helena's  shore. 


LITTLE   NELL   OF   XARRA*  ;  TE   BAY. 

I  had  a  dear  companion,  but  she's  not  with  me  now, 
The  lillies  of  the  valley  are  waving  o'er  her  brow, 
And  I  am  sad  and  lonely  and  weeping  all  the  day* 
For  bright  eyed.  I;  11  of  Xarragansette  Bay. 

rain- 
Toll,  toll  the  bell  at  early  dawn  of  day. 
For  lovely  little  Xell  so  quickly  passed  away, 
Toll,  toll  the  bell  so  saa  and  mournfully. 
For  bright  eyed,  laughing  little  Nell  of  Xarragansette  Bay. 

I  loved  tliis  little  beauty,  my  boat  it  was  her  pride. 
And  with  her  clos  •  me  what  joy  the  foam  to  ride, 

"We  laughed-  and  talked  so  merry  to  see  the  waves  go  by, 
Though  louder  blew  the  stormy  winds  and  darker  grew  the  sl>y. 

from  us  she  wandered  and  got  into  a  boat, 
The  line  was  quickly  loosened  and  with  the  tide  did  float; 
The  treacherous  bark  flew  lightly  before  the  mighty  wind. 
While  home  and  friends  and  all  so  dear  were  many  miles  behind. 

t  day  her  lifeless  was  found  upon  the  beach, 

I  stood  and  gazed  upon  it.  bereft  of  sense  and  speech; 
thus  we  parted,  but  yet  I  weep  today 
For  bright  eyed,  laughing  little  Xell  of  Xarragansette  Bay. 


MARCHIXG  THROUGH   GEORGIA. 

>od  old  bugle,  boys,  we'll  sing  another  song, 
I  it  with  a  spirit  that  will  start  the  world  along, 
_  it  as  we  used  to  sing  it,  fifty  thousand  strong, 
While  we  were  marching  through  Georgia. 

119 


Chorus— 

Hurrah  !     Hurrah  !     We  bring  the  jubilee, 
Hurrah !     Hurrah !     The  flag  that  makes  you  free, 
So  we  sang  the  chorus  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea, 
While  we  were  marching  thro'  Georgia. 

How  the  darkies  shouted  when  they  heard  the  joyful  sound, 
How  the  turkeys  gobbled  which  our  commissary  found, 
How  the  sweet  potatoes  even  started  from  the  ground, 
While  we  were  marching  thro'  Geoi 

Yes,  and  there  were  Union  men  who  wept  with  soulful  tears, 
When  they  saw  the  honored  flag  they  had  not  seen  for  years, 
Hardly  could  they  be  restrained  from  breaking  forth  in  cheers, 
While  we  were  marching  tlrro'  Georgia. 

"Sherman's  dashing  Yankee  boys  will  neves  reach  the  coast," 
So  the  saucy  rebels  said,  and  ?twas  a  handsome  boast, 
Had  they  npt  forgot,  alas,  to  reckon  with  the  host, 
While  we  were  marching  thro'  Georgia. 

So  we  made  a  thoroughfare  for  freedom  and  her  train, 
Sixty  miles  in  latitude,  three  hundred  to  the  main; 
Treason  fled  before  us/for  resistance  was  in  vain, 
While  we  Were* marching  thro'  Georgia. 


HOME,  SWEET  HOME. 

'Mid  pleasures  and  palaces,  though  we  may  roam, 
Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there's  no  place  like  home; 
A  charm  from  the  skies  seems  to  hallow  us  there, 
Which,  seek  thro'  the  world,  is  ne'er  met  with  elsewhere. 

Refrain — • 

Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home, 
There's  no  place  like  home. 
Oh,  there's  no  place  like  home. 

I  gaze  on  the  moon  as  I  tread  the  drear  wild. 
And  feel  that  my  mother  now  thinks  of  her  child, 
As  she  looks  on  that  moon  from  our  own  cottage  door, 
Thro'  the  woodbine  whose  fragrance  shall  cheer  me  no  more. 

An  exile  from  h;  lendor  dazzles  in  vain; 

Oh,  give  me  my  lowly  thatch 'd  cottage  again, 
The  birds  singing  gaily  that  come  at  my  call. 
Give  me  them,  and  that  peace  of  mind  dearer  than  all. 

120 


ET  REF 

A  music  hall  was  crowded  in  a  village  o'er  the  sea, 
And  brilliant  ]\  .  everywhere; 

3  and  witty  sayi]  audience  with  ■_■ 

For  the  minstrels  from  the  Sunny  South  were  tl 
siig"  about  his  old  plantation  horn 
Down  on  i 
When  an  aged  darkey  sitting  there  in  silence  and  a] 
.  and  this  is  wh 

Refrain — 

again  thai  sweet  ret':  the  old  folks  stay, 

It  brings  mi  .  slavery  sold  awa. 

Down  on  the  £  River  banks  there  is  where  I  used  to  roam, 

Now  I'm  old  and  nd  far  away,  far  from  the  old  folks 

at'  home. 

The  minstrel  kin  and  eyes  grew  dim  with  tears, 

The  aged  darkey  sat  with  head  bowed  low; 
And  somethii  slumbered  there  for 

years, 
It  was  a  memory  of  his  mother  long  ago. 
The  play  it  closed  'mid  great  applause,  and  when  the  curtain 
fell 
The  aged  darkey  tottered  on  his  way. 
Thinking  of  the  sweet-voieed  singer  and  the  song  he  sang  so  well, 
Thinking  of  the  words  that  made  him  rise  and  say: 


OYER  THE  HILLS  TO  THE  POOR-HOUSE. 

For  what  can  it  be  they  have  driven 

Their  father  so  helpless  and  old, 
Oh,  God,  may  their  crimes  be  forgiven, 

To  perish  out  here  in  the  cold; 
Oh,  Heavens,  I'm  sad  and  I'm  weary, 

See  the  tears  how  they  course  down  my  cheek, 
This  world  it  is  lonely  and  dreary, 

My  heart  for  relief  vainly  seeks. 

Refrain— 

For  I'm  old  and  I'm  helpless  and  feeble. 
And  the  davs  of  my  youth  have  gone  by, 

Now  it's  over  the  hills  to  the  poor-house, 
I  wander  alone  there  to  die. 
121 


I've  sat  on  that  old  doorstep  yonder, 

And  held  my  dear  babes  on  my  knee; 
No  father  was  happier  or  fonder 

Than  I,  of  my  little  ones  three; 
The  boys  both  so  rosy  and  rugged; 

And  Lilly  with  prattle  so  sweet, 
God  knows  how  their  father  has  loved  them, 

But  they've  driven  him  out  in  the  street. 
■ ■ « 
It  is  long  years  since  my  Mary  was  taken, 

My  dear  old  affectionate  wife, 
Since  then  I  have  been  forlorn  and  forsaken; 

And  the  light  has  died  out  from  my  life ; 
The  boys  grew  to  manhood — I  gave  them 

A  deed  of  the  farm,  aye,  and  more, 
I  gave  them  the  house  I  was  born  in, 

And  now  I'm  turned  out  from  its  door. 


NELLIE   WAS  A  LADY. 

Down  on  the  Mississippi  floating, 
Long  time  I  travel  on  the  way, 

All  night  the  cotton-wood  a-toting, 
Sing  for  my  true  love  all  the  day. 

Chorus — ■ 

Nellie  was  a  lady,  last  night  she  diet 
Toll  the  bell  for  lovely  Nell, 
My  dark  Yirginny  bride. 

Now  I'm  unhappy  and  I'm  weeping, 
Can't  tote  the  cotton-wood  no  m 

Last  night  while  Nellie  was  a-sleeping, 
Death  came  a-knocking  at  the  door. 

Down  in  the  meadow  'mong  the  clover, 
Walk  with  my  Nellie  by  1113-  side;- 

Now  all  those  happy  days  are  over, 
Farewell,  my  dark  Virginny  bride. 


LOCH-  LOMOND. 

By  yon  bonnie  banks,  and  by  yon  bonnie  'braes, 
Where  the  sun  shines  bright  on  Loch  Lomond, 

122 


Wl  my  true 

On  the  bonnie,  bonnie  banks  of  Loch  Lomond. 

Chorus — ■ 

Oh,  ye '11  take  the  high  road,  and  I'll  take^he  low  road, 
And  I'll  be  in  Scotland  af 
But  me  and  my  true  love  we'll  never  meet  again 
On  the  bonnie  bank*  h  Ldmon 

'Tv\.  that  we  parted  in  yon  shady  gl 

On  the  ide  of  Ben  Ldmo 

Where  in  purple  hue  the  highland  hills  we  view, 
And  the  moon  coming*  out  in  the  gloaming. 

The  wee  birdie  sang,  and  the  wild  flowers  spring. 

And  in  sunshine  the  waters  are  sleep 
But  the  broken  heart  it  kens  nae  second  spring  again, 

Tho'  the  waeful  mae  cease  frae  their  greeting. 


SHE  MAY  HAVE   SEEN  BETTER  DAYS. 

While  strolling  along  'midst  the  city's  vast  throng, 

On  a  night  that  was  bitterly  cold, 
I  noticed  a  crowd  that  were  laughing  aloud, 

At  something  they  chanced  to  behold. 
I  stopped  for  to  see  what  the  object  might  be. 

And  there  on  a  doorstep  there  lay 
A  woman  in  tears  from  the  crowd's  angry  jeers. 

And  then  I  heard  somebody  say: 

rain — ■ 

may  have  seen  better  days, 
When  she  was  in  her  prime, 
•  may  have  seen  better  days 
Once  upon  a  time. 
Though  by  the  wayside  she's  fell, 

•e  may  yet  mend  her  way 
Some  poor  old  mother  is  waiting  for  her 
Who  has  seen  better  da; 

If  we  could  but  tell  how  this  poor  creature  fell. 

Perhaps  we'd  not  be  so  severe:    , 
If  the  truth  were  but  known  of  this  outcast  alone, 

Perhaps  for  her  we'd  all  shed  a  tear. 
She  was  once  someone's  joy,  cast  aside  like  a  toy. 

Forsaken,   abandoned,  alone,  , 

123 


Each  man  standing'  by  had  a  tear  in  his  eye, 
For  some  had  daughters  at  home. 


JUST  TELL  THEM  THAT  YOU  SAW  ME. 

While  strolling  down  the  street  one  eve,  alone  on  pleasure  bent, 

It  was  after  business  worries  X)f  the  day, 
I  saw  a  girl  who  shrank  from  me  in  whom  I  recognized 

My  schoolmate  in  a  village  far  away. 
''Is  that  you.  Madge?''  I  said  to  her;  she  quickly  turned  away, 

"Don't  turn  away,  Madge,  I  am  still  your  friend; 
Next  week  I'm  going  back  to  see  the  old  folks  and  I  thought, 

Perhaps  some  message  you  would  like  to  send. 

Chorus — 

Just  tell  them  that  you  saw  me,  she  said,  they'll  know  the  rest, 
Just  tell  them  I  was  looking  well,  you  know: 

Just  whisper  if  you  get  a  chance  to  mother  dear  and  say, 
I  love  her  as  I  did  long,  long  ago. 

Your  cheeks  are  pale,  your  face  is  thin,  come  tell  me,  were 
you  ill  ■ 

When  last  we  met  your  eyes  shone  clear  and  bright; 
Come  home  with  me  when   I   go,-  Madge,  the   change   will  do 
you  good, 

Your  mother  wonders  where  you  are  tonight. 
"I  long  to  see  them  all  again,  but  not  just  yet,"  she  said; 

"It's  pride  alone  that's  keeping  me  away; 
Just  tell  them  not  to  worry,  for  I'm  all  right,  don't  you  know, 

Tell  mother  I  am  coming  home  some  day." 


THE  ROVING  IRISHMAN. 

I  am  a  roving  Irishman  that  roves  from  town  \o  town, 

I  lately  took  a  notion  to  view  some  foreign  ground, 

So  with  my  knapsack  on  my  shoulder  and  shijjala  in  my  hand, 

I  sailed  away  to  America  to  view  that  happy  land. 

When  I  landed  in  Philadelphia  the  girls  all  laughed  with  joy, 
Says  one  unto  another,  "There  comes  a  roving  boy." 
One  treated  to  a  bottle  and  another  to  a  dram, 
And  the  toast  went   'round  so  merrily,  "Success  to  the  Irish- 
man." 

124 


v  iirst  night  at  the  house  where  I  was  going  to  stay, 
The  landlady's  daughter  grew  very  fond  of  me; 
She  kissed  me  and  she  hugged  me  and  she  took  me  by  the  hand, 
And  she  whispers  to  her  mother,  "How  I  love  this  Irishman." 

I-   was  early  next  morning  when  I  was  going  away, 
landlady's  daughter  those  words  to  me  ""did  sa,- 
''How  can  you  "be  so  cruel  or  prove  so  very  unkind, 
As  to  go  away  a-roving  and  leave  me  here  behind 

Oh,  I  am  bound  for  Wisconsin,  that's  right  among  the  Dutch, 
And  as  for  conversation  it  won't  be  very  much, 
But  by  signs  and  by  signals  I'll  make  them  understand 
That  the  spirits  of  good  nature  lies  in  this  Irishman. 

Now  it's  time  to  leave  off  roving  and  take  myself  a  wife,  . 
And  for  to  live  happy  the  remainder  of  my  life ; 
Oh,  I'll  hug  her  and  I'll  kiss  her,  oh,  I'll  do. the  best  I  e»n 
P^or  to  make  her  bless  the  day  that  she  wed  with  this  Irishman. 


I  TOLD  THEM  THAT  I  SAW  YOU. 

You  all  have  heard  the  story  of  the  girl  that  ran  away, 
And  how  she  met  her  schoolmate  among  the  city's  throng  one 

day : 
Just  tell  the  folks  you  saw  me — that  was  all  the  maiden  said, 
One  day  she  got  a  letter  from  her  schoolmate  and  it  read: 

lief  rain — 
I  told  them  that  I  saw  you,  they  want  you  to  come  home, 
Their  hearts  are  breaking  for  you  while  far  away  you. roam; 
You  know   they're   getting  old,   Madge,   from   them  you   soon 

must  part. 
So  come  home,  Mad.ge,  before  you  break  your  poor  old  mother's 

heart. 

Then  came  thoughts  of  her  childhood  to  this  fair   one,   wild 

and  gay. 
She  seemed  to  see  her  mother  in  her  home  so  far  away- . 
She  thought   of  her  happy  childhood  and  the  life  she  might 

have  led, 
And  gazing  on  the  letter  those  Words  once  more  she  read: 


OLD  FOLKS  AT  HOME. 

AYay  down  upon  the  Swanee  river, 
Far,  far  away, 

125 


Dere's  whar  my  heart  is  turning  ever, 
Dere's  who'  de  old  folks  stay. 
All  up  and  down  de  whole  creation 

Sadly  I  roam, 
Still  longing  for  the  old  plantation, 
And  for  de  old  folks  at  home. 

Refrain — 

All  de  world  is  sad  and  dreary, 

Everywhere  I  roam; 
Oh,  darkies,  how  my  heart  grows  weary, 

Far  from  de  old  folks  at  home. 

All  roun'  de  little  farm  I  wandered, 

When  I  was  young; 
Den  many  happy  days  I  squandered, 

Many  de  songs  I  sung. 
When  I  was  playing  with  my  brother, 

Happy  was  I. 
Oh,  take  me  back  to  my  kind  old  mother, 

There  let  me  live  and  die. 

One  little  hut  among  de  bushes, 

One  that  I  love, 
Still  sadly  to  my  mem'ry  rushes, 

No  matter  where  I  rove; 
When  will  I  see  de  bees  a-humming 

All  roun'  de  comb? 
When  will  I  hear  de  banjo  tumming 

Down  in  my  good  old  home  ? 


OLD  BLACK  JOE. 

Gone  are  the  days  when  my  heart  was  young  and  gay, 
Gone  are  my  friends  from  the  cotton  fields  away; 
Gone  from  the  earth  to  a  better  land,  I  know, 
I  hear  their  gentle  voices  calling,  "Old  Black  Joe." 

Chorus — ■ 

I'm  coming,  I'm  coming,  for  my  head  is  bending  low; 
I  hear  those  gentle  voices  calling,  "Old  Black  Joe." 

Why  do  I  weep  when  my  heart  should  feel  no  pain? 
Why  do  I  sigh  that  my  friends  come  not  again? 
Grieving  for  forms  now  departed  long  ago, 
I  hear  their  gentle  voices  calling,  "Old  Black  Joe." 

126 


Where  are  the  hearts  once  so  happy  and  so  free? 
The  children  so  dear  that  I  held  upon  my  knee? 
Gone  to  the  shore  where  my  soul  has  longed  to  go, 
I  hear  their  gentle  voices  calling,  ' '  Old  Black  Joe. ' ' 


THE  SHREW  WIFE. 

Kind  folks,  if  you'll  listen  a  story  I'll  tell, 
It  is  of  a  misfortune  that  has  me  befell, 
I  married  a  jade  and  her  name  it  is  Nell, 

And  she's  all  the  time  scolding  and  brawling. 

Twenty  pounds  of  a  pension  I  draw  every  year, 
Which  caused  her  to  drink  both  whiskey,  and  beer, 
Her  voice  like  a  cannon  would  sound  in  my  ear, 
Before  the  daylight  in  the  morning. 

To  kindle  the  fire,  that  is  me  first  job, 
And  if  I  don't  do  it,  it's  a  slap  in  the  gob, 
A  kick  or  a  cuff  or  a  rap  on  the  nob, 
I  'm  sure  for  to  get  from  me  darling. 

Before  I  go  to  the  barn  I  must  lave  the  tay  kettle  to  bile, 
And  when  I  come  in  I  must  nurse  a  young  child, 
I  wish  I'd  been  kilt  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile 
Before  I  ever  met  me  darling. 

Without  a  sign  of  a  shoe  or  a  sock  to  me  feet, 
Me  bed  it  is  left  without  blanket  or  sheet, 
I'm  a  show  to  the  world  when  I  go  on  the  street, 
While  she  to  the  neighbors  is  galivanting. 

It  is  now  my  wife's  beauty  I  mean  to  disclose, 
She's  dirty,  she's  ragged,  with  a  dam  crooked  nose, 
She 's  a  disgrace  to  all  women  wherever  she  goes, 
With  her  tatters  and  rags  a-hanging. 

She  has  hair  on  her  lip  like  a  wandering  Jew, 
Damn  the  tooth  in  her  head  that  is  sound,  only  two, 
Not  a  stitch  on  her  back,  aither  red,  white  or  blue, 
That  ever  was  wet  with  a  washing. 

I  have  traveled  through  France,  through  .England  and  Spain 
All  through  the  East  Indies  and  back  home  again, 
At  Waterloo  battles  I  suffered  great  pain, 

But  I  never  met  with  the  likes  of  me  darling. 


127 


DUBLIN  BAY. 

There  sailed  away  in  a  gallant  bark  Roy  Neal  and  his  fair 

young  bride, 
They  had  ventured  all  in  that  bounding  ark  that  sailed  o'er 

the   silvery   tide; 
But  their  hearts  were  young  and  their  spirits  light  and  they 

dashed  the  tears  away, 
And  they  watched  the  shore  recede  from  sight    of  their  own 

sweet  Dublin  Bay. 

Three  days  they  sailed  when  a  storm  arose  and  lightning  flashed 

the  deep, 
And  the  thunder's  crash  broke  the  short  repose  of  the  weary  r.ea 

boys  asleep ; 
Roy  Neal  he  clasped  his  weeping  bride  and  kissed  her  tears 

away; 
"Oh,  love,  'twas  a  fatal  hour,"  she  cried,  "when  we  left  Dublin 

Bay. ' ' 

On  the  crowded  deck  of  that  doomed  ship  some  stood  in  mute 

despair, 
And  some  more,  calm  with  a  holy  lip  sought  the  God  of  the 

storm  in  prayer; 
"She  has  struck  on  a  rock,"  the  sailors  cried  in  a  breath  of  their 

wild  dismay, 
And  the  ship  went  down  and  the  fair  young  bride  that  sailed 

from  Dublin  Bay. 


BILLIE  JOHNSON  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE. 

An  old  and  crippled  veteran  to  the  War  Department  came, 
He  sought  the  chief  who  led  him  o'er  many  a  field  of  fame, 
The  chief  who  shouted  "FORWARD"  whene'er  his  banner  rose, 
And  bore  the  flag  in  triumph  behind  his  flying  foes. 

"Have  you  forgotten,  General,"  the  battered  soldier  cried, 
"The  days  of  Eighteen  Hundred  and  Twelve  when  I  fought  by 

your  side? 
Have  you  forgotten  Johnson  that  fought  at  Lundy's  Lane?  ' 
It's  true  I'm  old  and  feeble,  but  I'd  like  to  fight  again." 

"Have  I  forgotten?"  says  the  chief,  "my  brave  old  soldier,  NO! 
And  here's  the  hand  I  gave  you  then  and  let  it  tell  you  so; 
But  you  have  done  your  share,  my  friend,  you  are  crippled,  old 

and  gray, 
And  we  have  need  of  stronger  arms  and  fresher  blood  today." 

128 


''I'm  not  so  weak,  but  I  can  shoot,  and  I've  a  good  old  gun, 
To  get  the  range  of  traitors'  hearts  and  pierce  them  one  by  one; 
And  if  a  bullet  should  find  me  out  and  lay  me  on  my  face, 
My  soid  will  go  to  Washington,  and  not.  to  Arnold's  place. 

"J  am  ready.  General,  so  you  let  a  post  to  me  be  given, 
Where  Washington  can  look  down  on  me  as  he  looks  down  from 

Heaven,. 
And-say  to  Putnam  at  his  side,  or  maybe  General  Wayne, 
"There  stands  old  Billie  Johnson,  he  fought  at  Lundy's  Lane." 


THE  GRAVE  OF  THE  SECTION  HAND. 

They  laid  him  away  on  the  brow  of  the  hill, 

Outside  of  the  right-of-way. 
And  the  old  boss  whispered,  "Peace,  be  still," 

Till  the  call  on  the  Final  Day. 
They  had  placed  him  where  he  had  wished  to  lie, 

When  his  time  would  come,  he  said, 
Where  he'd  list  to  the  wire's  mournful  sigh, 

To  the  foreman's  "Joint  ahead!" 


For  many  a  year  he  had  paced  that  beat, 

He  had  pumped  o'er  every  tie, 
And  now  from  fa  .1 

He  could  feel  the  freights  roll  by; 
For  from  his  rest,    meath  the  willow's  shade, 

His  spirit  would  guard  the  track; 
He  would  know  when  the  ensrine  struck  the  grade, 

Hear  the  old  call,  "Center  back!'' 

He  would  hear  the  tramp  of  the  "extra  gang," 

The  dago's  clattering  tongue, 
The  voice  of  the  Irish  boss  he  knew. 

And  the  water-boy ^s  whistle  and  song. 
And  lonely  he'd  be  when  the  sun'  last  glare 

Had  faded  away  in  the  night. 
And  left  him  alone  with  the  feeble  flare 

Of  the  distant  red  switch-light. 

And  the  .old  boss  fastened  a  band  of  black 

To  the  unused  handle-bar, 
And  he  said,  "Now,  men.  the  speed  we'll  slack 

As  we  pass  with  the  old  handrcar 
The  place  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  beyond, 

We  will  make  up  the  minute  we're  la; 
While  the  birds  are  singing  their  morning  song 

O'er  the  grave  of  our  old-time  mat" 
129 


THE  MAGIC  GLASS. 

I  went  one  night  with  a  high-priced  thirst  to  loaf  in  a  booze 
bazaar, 

And  as  I  sampled  the  old  red  dope  I  leaned  on  the  polished  bar ; 

My  pockets  were  filled  with  the  good,  long  green,  my  raiments 
were  soft  and  new, 

And  I  felt  as  fresh  as  a  cabbage  flower  that's  kissed  with  a 
nice  wet  dew; 

Behind  the  bar  a  mirror  stood  as  big  as  your  parlor  floor, 

And  I  looked  and  looked  in  that  glittering  glass,  then  I  won- 
dered and  looked  some  more. 

My  own  reflection  I  did  not  see,  but  there  where  it  should  have 

been, 
There  stood  the  form   of  a  cringing  bum,   all  crumpled  and 

soaked  with  gin; 
His   nose   was   red,   his    eyes   were   bleared,    unshorn   was   his 

swollen  face, 
And  I  thought  it  queer  that  so  seedy  a  bum  would  come  to  so 

swell  a  place. 
I  turned  around  for  a  better  look  at  this  effigy  of  despair. 
And  I  nearly  fell  in  a  little  heap,  for  the  effigy  wasn't  there; 
The  bartender  laughed,  "It's  the  Magic  Glass,"  he  said  with  a 

careless  yawn, 
"It  shows  a  man  how  he  is  apt  to  look  years  hence  when  his 

roll  is  gone." 


THE  TWO  0 'DONAHUES. 

We  came  from  Tipperary  a  few  short  weeks  ago, 
With  spirits  light  and  airy,  two  emigrants,  you  know; 
So  now  we  ask  your  pardon,  smile  on  us  if  you  please, 
For  we  come  from  Tipperary  so  far  beyant  the  seas. 

Digging  turf  was  our  occupation  in  the  bogs  of  Allen  then, 
But  we're  told  that  in  this  nation  we'll  at  least  be  aldermen; 
We're  sure  of  big  positions  in  offices  of  note, 
We'll  join  the  politicians,  boys,  and  for  us  you'll  have  to  vote. 

When  we  go  back  to  Ireland  it's  then  it  will  be  said, 
We  '11  rise  up  in  our  sireland,  the  green  above  the  red ; 
So  all  the  world  may  glory  whenever  they  hear  the  news 
Of  Ireland  and  the  story  of  the  two  0 'Donahues. 


130 


REMINISCENCES. 

The  harp  that  once  through  Taras  Hall  played  many  a  good 

old  tone, 
Come  back  to  Erin,  Molly  Bawn,  and  the  Rising,  of  the  Moon ; 
Kathleen  Mavourneen  andCruirkeenlawn-arrah,  where 's  that 

harp,  today  ? 
For  the  only  tune  th  now  is  Ta-ra-bom-de-a. 

was  an  old  man  Plynn  and  what  do  you  think  of  him? 
.  the  hat  that  lie  wore  it  was  all  caved  in, 

g  would  all  shout  as  he  'here  goes 

dirty  old  man  Flyii 

And  then  the;  I   a  derrick  and  hoist  it,  and  hang 

it  on  the  shelf, 

get  a  derrick  and  hoist  it,  and  then  go  hang  yourself! 
arly  frightens  me  out  of  my  life  to  hear  those  imps  of  sin, 
take  a  brick  and  go  hit  that  flannel-mouthed  Mick  and  cave 
his  old  dicer  in.'' 


THE  MORNING  AFTER, 

Sometimes,  old  scout,  in  the  morning,  when  the  dawn  looks  cold 

and  gray, 
And  I  lie  he  perfumed  flowers  thinking  thoughts  I  dare 

not  say, 
I  think  on  the  stunts  of  the  night  before  and  I  smile  a  feeble 

smile, 
And  I  sav  to  mvself  for  the  hundredth  time.  "Is  it  really  worth 
while  ?" 

Then  I  pick  up  the  morning  paper  and  see  where  some  goodly 

man 
Who  never  soused  at  all  in  his  life,  or  never  said  "Hell"  or 

"Damn," 
Who  never  stayed  out  till  the  wee  small  hours  or  jollied  the 

gay  soubrette, 
preached  on  the  evils  of  drinking,  of  cards  and  the 

arette. 

"Cut  down  in  the  midst  of  a  useful  life,"  the  headline  does 

glibly  s: 
Or  "caught  by  death's  grim  reaper,  he  has  crossed  the  great 

Highway 
They  bury  him  deep  while  a  few  friends  weep,  and  the  world 

passes  on  with  a  sigh, 

131 


And  that  saintly  man  is  forgotten  soon,  just  the  same  as  von 
or  I. 

Then  I  says  to  myself,  "Well,  Jack,  old  boy,  when  you  are 

called  to  make  the  jump, 
When  you  reach  the  pla.ce  where  the  good  and  the  bad  must 

bump  the  eternal  bumps, 
You  can  smile  to  yourself  and  chuckle,   though  the  path  be 

exceedingly  hot, 
When  you  were  on  earth  you  were  -going  some" — now  is  that 

an  unholy  thought? 

Then  I  arise  aiid  attach  a  cracked  iceband  to  the  crown  of  my 

battered  hat, 
And  I  wander  forth  for  a  cold  gin  fizz — she  is  a  great  old  world 

at  that; 
Then  I  go  on  my  way  rejoicing,  what's  the  use  to  sob  or  sigh, 
Take  the  route,   old  scout,   and  be  merry,   for   tomorrow  you 

may  die. 


THE  KLONDIKE  MINER. 

A  Klondike  City  mining  man  lay  dying  on  the  ice, 
There  was  lack  of  women's  nursing,  for  he  didn't  have  the  price, 
But  a  comrade  knelt  beside  him  as  the  sun  sank  to  repose, 
To  hear  what  he  might  have  to  say  and  watch  him  while  lie 
froze. 

The  dying  man  lie  raised  liis  head  above  the  banks  of  snow, 
And  he  said,  "I've  never  seen  it  thaw  when   'twas  forty-five 

below ; 
Take  a  message  and  a  token  to  some  distant  friends  thereat, 
For  I  was  born  at  Gibbons,  at  Gibbons  on  the  Platte, 

"Tell  my  brothers  and  companions  if  ever  you  get  back  East? 
That  this  blooming  Klondike  -country  is  no  place  for  man  or 

beast, 
For  the  mountains  are  too  rugged  and  the  weatlier  is  too  cold, 
And  the  wheat  fields  of  Nebraska  yield  a  better  grade  of  gold. 

Here  an  honest  day  of  labor  won't  buy  a  pound  of  grease,, 
And  the  price  of  leather  biscuits  is  sixty  cents  apir1 
Tell  my  father  not  to  sorrow  with  a  sorrow  deep  and  dense. 
For  I  would  not  thus  have  perished  if  I  had  a  lick  of  sense, 
But  to  keep  the  sorrel  horses  and  the  high-grade  cattle  fat 
Upon  the  farm  at  Gibbons,  at  Gibbous  on  th?  Platte. 

132 


* '  I  thought  to  make  a  fortune  here, ' ?  the  dying  man  did  say, 
And  then  he  hove  a  sigh  or  two  and  froze  up  right  away; 
And  it  took  of  golden  shekels  two  hundred,  yes,  more  than  that, 
To  ship  him  back  to  Gibbons,  to  Gibbons  on  the  Platte. 


133 


CORRECTION 
A  correction  in  typographical  error  made  on  Page  47. 

THE  LASS  OF  DUNMORE 

As  I  went  a- walking  one  morning, 

Bright  Phoebus  so  clearly  did  shine, 
And  the  meadow  larks  warbled  melodious, 

While  the  roses  in  the  valley  did  twine; 
It  was  down  by  a  grove  where  I  wondered, 

A  while  to  repose  in  the  shade, 
On  my  destiny  for  to  ponder, 

It  was  there  I  beheld  a  fair  maid. 


134 


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